Reverend
Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange O.P. was professor of Dogma and Mystical
Theology in the Angelico, Rome.

This is
Volume 2 containing Parts; “The Illuminative Way of
Proficients”, “The Unitive Way of the Perfect” and
“Extraordinary Graces”.Volume 1 containing Parts; “The
Sources of the Interior Life and its End” and “The
Purification of the Soul in Beginners” is also available.

This work is published for the greater Glory of Jesus
Christ through His mostHoly Mother Mary and for the sanctification
of the militant Church and her members.

THE THREE AGES OF THE INTERIOR LIFE: VOLUME 2

PART 3—The Illuminative Way of Proficients

Chapter 1: The Object of the Third Part and the language of Spiritual
Writers Compared with That of Theologians

In Part One of this work, we discussed the principles
or the sources of the interior life, the organism of the virtues and
the gifts, the nature of Christian perfection, its elevation, and the
general obligation of every Christian and the special obligation of
priests and religious to tend to perfection.

In Part Two we treated of the purification of the
soul in beginners, of sins to be avoided, of the predominant fault,
of the active purification of the senses and the spirit, especially
of the active purification of the memory, the understanding, the
will, and finally of I the mental prayer of beginners.

We shall now, logically, proceed to the consideration
of the illuminative way of proficients, which is the continuation of
the purgative way under another name. It is given a new name, just as
one and the same road is called, progressively, different names
according to the cities through which it passes: the railway from
Turin to Rome is called, first of all, the Turin-Genoa Railroad, then
the Genoa-Pisa, and lastly the Pisa-Rome Railroad.

Great variety may be found on the same road; one part
crosses the plain, another climbs more or less steep slopes; part of
the road can be covered in daylight, part at night, and that in fair
or stormy weather. The same is true from the spiritual point of view.
Further more, on a railroad connecting two cities, speed must not be
excessive, or stops eliminated, or the wait at stations too much
prolonged. Likewise on God’s highway, progress would be
compromised by a desire to travel too fast, whereas too great a delay
in one place would put one behind schedule; in this sense, “Not
to advance is to retrogress.” The illuminative way is,
therefore, the continuation of the purgative way, but in the former,
progress should be more marked.

To discuss the illuminative way in a methodical
manner, we shall treat of it in the following order:

(1) the entrance to this way; several writers have
called it a second conversion and, more precisely, speaking, the
passive purification of the senses;

(2) the principal characteristics of the spiritual
age of proficients;

(3) the progress of the Christian moral virtues,
especially of humility, a fundamental virtue, and of meekness in its
relations with charity;

(4) the progress of the theological virtues, of the
spirit of faith and confidence in God, of conformity to the signified
divine will, of fraternal charity, the great sign of progress in the
love of God;

(5) the gifts of the Holy Ghost in proficients, their
docility to the Holy Ghost, their more continual recollection in the
course of the day;

(6) the progressive illumination of the soul by the
Sacrifice of the Mass and Communion; why each Communion should be
substantially more fervent than the preceding one; devotion to the
Eucharistic Heart of Jesus and to Mary Mediatrix, in this period of
the interior life;

(7) the contemplative prayer of proficients and its
degrees; the error of the quietists on this subject; the passage from
acquired prayer to infused prayer. Is infused prayer in the normal
way of sanctity, or is it, on the contrary, an extraordinary grace,
like visions, revelations, the stigmata? Is infused prayer ordinarily
granted to generous, interior souls, who persevere in prayer and
docility to the Holy Ghost, and who daily bear the cross with
patience and love?

(8) the defects of proficients; the pride which
mingles in their acts; the discernment of spirits; retarded
proficients; the necessity of a passive purification of the spirit
which, according to St. John of the Cross, marks the entrance into
the unitive way.

Why do we propose to follow this order? Because it is
fitting to consider the growth of the virtues and of the gifts before
the progress of their acts, in order to show more clearly to what
already elevated acts this growth of the virtues and of the gifts,
which is a trustworthy sign of progress, is ordained. We are, in
fact, already certain through faith and theology that the acquired
virtues and the infused virtues, as well as the seven gifts, should
always grow in us here on earth, particularly in the illuminative way
or that of proficients. In this stage there should even be an
acceleration in this progress, for the soul ought to advance more
rapidly toward God as it approaches Him more closely and is more
drawn by Him, just as the stone falls more rapidly as it draws near
the earth which attracts it.1
The traveler toward eternity should advance more rapidly as he
approaches the end which captivates him more. We have already shown
these principles to be certain; there should, consequently, be a very
notable increase in the virtues and the gifts in the illuminative way
of proficients. Profound consideration of this fact will make us
understand better what the elevation of the acts of these virtues and
gifts should normally be in this period of the spiritual life.

Moreover, that we may proceed with order, it is
fitting that we follow an ascending course, considering first of all
the increase of the Christian moral virtues, next that of the
theological virtues, then that of the gifts which perfect the
virtues, and finally the graces of light, love, and strength which
are given us daily by Mass and Communion. If we follow this plan, we
shall see more clearly that the prayer of proficients is normally a
contemplative prayer. If, on the contrary, we discuss this prayer at
the very beginning, we might describe it as it actually is in those
who appear to be proficients without perhaps really being so, and not
such as it should normally be in this already advanced age of the
spiritual life. These are the reasons for the order we shall follow.

Before beginning our study, however, we shall here
examine an important preliminary question, that of the essential
character of the language of the great spiritual writers who have
discussed these matters, language having terms that are somewhat
different from those used by theologians. A comparison of these two
terminologies or ways of speaking is necessary here.

THE LANGUAGE OF SPIRITUAL
WRITERS COMPARED WITH THAT OF THEOLOGIANS

It has often been remarked that great spiritual
writers, especially when they discuss mysticism properly so called,
use terms that differ notably from those used by theologians. For a
clear grasp of the meaning and import of each set of terms, a
comparison of the two is necessary.

The language of the great Catholic mystics has its
basis in Scripture, in the Psalms, the Canticle of Canticles, the
Gospel of St. John, and the Epistles of St. Paul. It takes shape
increasingly with St. Augustine in his commentaries on the Psalms and
on St. John; with Dionysius; St. Gregory the Great in his commentary
on Job; St. Bernard; Hugh and Richard of St. Victor; St. Bonaventure;
the author of The Imitation; Tauler; Blessed Henry Suso; St. Teresa;
St. John of the Cross; and St. Francis de Sales.

Their terminology, the expression of their mystical
experience, gradually passed into doctrinal, spiritual theology,
which should compare it with the scholastic terminology of
theologians in order to avoid certain errors or confusions into which
Master Eckart occasionally fell.

THE QUESTION RAISED BY
THE LANGUAGE OF THE MYSTICS

At first glance, the vocabulary of great spiritual
writers seems to a number of exclusively scholastic theologians too
metaphorical and also exaggerated, either in what relates to the
abnegation necessary for perfection or in regard to the separation
from the sensible and from reasoning or discourse in contemplation.
For this reason, certain great mystics, such as Tauler and
Ruysbroeck, seemed suspect; and, for the same reason, after the death
of St. John of the Cross, some theologians felt they should correct
his works and cover them over, as it were, with scholastic whitewash
in order the better to explain their meaning and remove all
exaggeration. Thus talent sometimes wishes to correct genius, as if
the eaglet wished to teach the eagle to fly. It was then necessary to
defend the mystics against their enemies and their injudicious
friends. With this purpose Louis Blosius wrote a defense of Tauler,
and Father Nicholas of Jesus Mary composed his book, Elucidatio
phrasium mysticorum operum Joannis a Cruce.2

An example of the difference between the language of
spiritual writers and that of theologians may be illustrated by the
meaning they give to the word “nature.” The speculative
meaning of this word is abstract and has nothing unfavorable about
it; its ascetical meaning is concrete and recalls original sin. We
read in The Imitation in regard to the different movements of
nature and grace: “Nature is crafty and draweth away many, . .
. and always proposes self as her end. But grace walketh in
simplicity, turneth aside from all appearance of evil, offereth no
deceits, and doth all things purely for God, in whom also it resteth
as its last end. . . . Nature willingly receiveth honor and respect.
But grace faithfully attributeth honor and glory to God.”3
These words at first seem contrary to the principles often formulated
by St. Thomas: “Grace does not destroy nature, but perfects
it”; “Nature inclines us to love God, its Author, more
than ourselves; otherwise the natural inclination would be perverse,
and it would not be perfected, but destroyed, by charity.”4

Considering the matter with greater attention, we see
that no contradiction exists between the author of The Imitation
and St. Thomas, but they employ the word nature with two different
meanings. St. Thomas takes it in the philosophical and abstract
sense, which corresponds to the definition of man (a rational
animal), to his nature, the radical principle of his operations, such
as it comes from God, abstraction being made of every grace superior
to it and also of original sin and its results. Human nature thus
conceived corresponds to a divine idea. When spiritual writers, like
the author of The Imitation, contrast nature and grace, they
take the word nature in its ascetical and concrete meaning. They
speak of nature such as it is concretely since the sin of the first
man; in other words, turned away from God by original sin, or still
wounded although regenerated by baptism. They wish to recall the fact
that, even in baptized persons, the wounds, the results of original
sin, are not completely healed, but are in the process of healing.
These wounds are four in number: weakness, ignorance, malice, and
concupiscence. They affect the different faculties,5
and often manifest themselves in a gross egoism, at times only
slightly conscious, which personal sins can greatly augment. St.
Thomas also insists on this point when he speaks of inordinate
self-love, from which spring pride, the concupiscence of the flesh,
that of the eyes;6
and then when he speaks of the seven capital sins,7
from which come other sins that are still more serious.

Careful thought on the matter shows that here there
is not a contradiction in doctrine between speculative theologians
and spiritual writers, but a difference of terminology which the
context explains. One is more abstract, the other more concrete, for
it aims at the application of principles for the conduct of life in
conditions in which man actually finds himself since original sin.

For a clearer understanding of this difference, we
shall speak of the theological bases of the terminology of spiritual
writers, of the principal terms of their language, and we shall
compare the expressive value of their language with the value of that
of theologians.

THE THEOLOGICAL BASES OF
THE TERMINOLOGY OF SPIRITUAL WRITERS

Each science or discipline has its special terms, the
meaning of which cannot be clearly understood by those who do not
know the subject. If mathematics, physics, and physiology have their
particular set of terms, why should mysticism not have its
terminology? Terms express ideas, as ideas express the nature of
things, and the idea which at first was confused subsequently becomes
distinct. Scientific concepts are thus more distinct than the notions
of common sense, and sometimes new names are needed to express them;
otherwise it would be necessary to have recourse to circumlocutions
or excessively lengthy paraphrases.

Theology furnishes the basis of the terminology of
spiritual writers when it teaches that, to speak of God and our
supernatural life, we have two classes of terms, one set of which has
a literal meaning, and the other a metaphorical meaning. Thus we say,
using the literal meaning: “God is good and wise; He is
goodness itself, wisdom itself.” These are, in fact,
perfections which imply no imperfection, and they are found
analogically in God and in creatures according to their literal
meaning. On the contrary, it is only metaphorically that we speak of
the wrath of God; wrath is, in fact, a passion, a movement of the
sensible appetite, which cannot, properly speaking, be found in God,
who is pure spirit; but the expression “wrath of God” is
a metaphor to denominate His justice.

On this subject we must make the following
observations: among the analogical terms which denominate God
literally, negative terms, like “immaterial” and
“immobile,” express Him more exactly than positive terms,
inasmuch as we know rather what God is not than what He is.8
We know very well that in Him there is neither matter, movement,
progress, nor limit; whereas we cannot know positively the essential
mode according to which the divine perfections are in God and are
identified in the eminence of the Deity, in which they exist formally
and eminently. We know this essential mode of he divine perfections
in a negative and relative manner, saying: it is an uncreated,
incomprehensible, supreme mode. But in itself it remains hidden, like
the Deity, which is manifest only to the blessed who see it
immediately.

Consequently, when the mystics speak of God, they use
many negative terms, such as “incomprehensible,”
“ineffable,” “incommunicable.” They say that
negative contemplation, which expresses itself in this manner, is
superior to affirmative contemplation. In fact, negative
contemplation attains in its way what is most lofty: the eminence of
the Deity, or the inner life of God, which cannot be shared by
nature, but only by sanctifying grace, which is a participation in
the divine nature.

Moreover, among the positive names that are properly
applied to God, the least definite and the more absolute and common
denominate Him better than the others, says St. Thomas.9
Thus the name, “He who is,” is more properly applied to
God than the others, for by its indetermination it better expresses
the infinite ocean of the spiritual substance of God. On the
contrary, more definite names, such as “intelligent,”
“free,” fall short of this infinite mode. Therefore the
mystics say that superior contemplation, which proceeds from faith
illumined by the gifts, is confused, indistinct, ineffable; they
place it above distinct contemplation which would come from a special
revelation.

Metaphorical terms are necessary, says St. Thomas,10
where there are no suitable terms, especially to express the
particular relations of God with interior souls. Thus the mystics
speak metaphorically of spiritual espousals and of spiritual marriage
in order to designate as it were a transforming union of the soul
with God. Likewise by metaphor they speak of the depth of the soul to
designate the depth of the intellect and the will, where these
faculties spring from the very substance of the soul. These metaphors
are explained by the fact that we know spiritual things only in the
mirror of sensible things, and that it is often difficult to find
fitting terms to express them.

THE PRINCIPAL TERMS OF
THE LANGUAGE OF SPIRITUAL WRITERS

The ordinary terms of Scripture and those of theology
would suffice for mysticism; but to avoid excessively long
circumlocutions, spiritual writers have had recourse to special
terms, or they have given a more particular meaning to expressions
already in use. Thus several terms have become essentially mystical,
to such an extent that if one took them in their scholastic meaning,
they would no longer be true. All spiritual writers speak, for
example, of the nothingness of the creature and say: the creature is
nothing. A theologian, to render this proposition acceptable to his
point of view, would add this precision: the creature by itself is
nothing. Master Eckart’s error consisted in affirming in the
scholastic meaning of the word what is true only in a mystical sense.
Consequently several of his propositions were condemned, among them
the following: “All creatures are pure nothingness; I do not
say that they are little, or something, but that they are pure
nothingness.”11
If this were true, God would have created nothing outside of Himself,
or rather the being of creatures would not be distinct from that of
God.

Likewise the mystics have often called infused
contemplation simply “contemplation,” when, as a matter
of fact, they mean infused contemplation. Thus a special terminology
has gradually grown up. Its special character comes from the fact
that the secrets of the inner life of God and of the union of the
soul with Him are ineffable, or from the fact that the terms of human
language have no proportion with the sublimity of divine things. To
remedy this lack of proportion, spiritual writers have found three
categories of terms which are essentially mystical. They may be
classed as hyperbolical, antithetical or contrary, and symbolical
terms.

Hyperbolical terms seek to express the
infinite elevation of God, as for example, “the superessence or
the supergoodness of God,”12
or again the inferiority of the creature in relation to God, as “the
nothingness of the creature.”

Antithetical terms express something lofty by
a sort of contrary effect which they produce on us. Thus the terms
“dark night” and “great darkness” express
“the inaccessible light in which God dwells,” a light
that dazzles us and affects us like a superior and transluminous
obscurity, which is the direct opposite of the inferior obscurity
which comes from matter, error, or evil. Likewise, by irony, the word
of God is called foolishness, since it produces this effect on
senseless people. With this meaning St. Paul writes: “For
seeing that in the wisdom of God the world, by wisdom, knew not God,
it pleased God, by the foolishness of our preaching, to save them
that believe. . . . For the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and
the weakness of God is stronger than men.”13

Symbolical terms are metaphors such as: the
Spouse of souls (to designate God), the spiritual marriage, the depth
of the soul, the spiritual senses, the sleep of the faculties, the
wound of love, liquefaction and spiritual fusion.

It should be pointed out that certain mystics, such
as Dionysius, have a preference for hyperbolical terms (for example,
superessence, supergoodness); others, like St. John of the Cross, for
antithetical terms (the dark night); others, as St. Teresa, for
symbolical terms (spiritual espousals and marriage).

In these terms we have the principle that enables us
to reconcile the degrees of prayer described by St. Teresa and those
described by St. John of the Cross; the difference is to be found
more in the terms than in the spiritual states indicated. Thus under
the title of the dark night of the senses, St. John of the Cross
speaks of the prayer of arid quiet, which precedes consoled quiet of
which St. Teresa speaks in the fourth mansion. With regard to the
dark night of the spirit St. John discusses graces of which St.
Teresa treats in the sixth mansion in connection with the spiritual
espousals, which, like the night of the spirit, proximately prepare
the soul for the perfect transforming union, also called the
spiritual marriage.

The terminology preferred by St. John of the Cross
contributes to giving him a more austere tone than that of St.
Teresa; but when he speaks of the summit of the interior life in The
Living Flame of Love, he does so in terms that show a plenitude of
most striking spiritual joy.

The meaning of mystical terms is well comprehended,
with respect to what is at one and the same time disproportionate and
suitable, only by those who have experience in these matters, and
they observe a fitting sobriety in this regard. Others have, at
times, ridiculously abused these terms, even to speaking of
superseraphic superelevation, of “confricatio deifica,”
of the abyss of cordial exinanition, and so on, and using other terms
which remind one of vain sentimentality and sometimes of mystical
sensualism

MYSTICAL HYPERBOLE

In a study of the hyperbolical terms used by the
great mystics, it should be pointed out that they did not use these
terms with the meaning given them by agnostics. For example, when the
mystics say, as Dionysius does, that God in His Deity or His inner
life is above being, unity, the true, the good, intelligence, and
love, they do not mean that God is unknowable, but that His Deity or
His intimate life contains in an eminent manner the divine
perfections according to an ineffable, superior mode, which permits
these perfections to be mutually identified without destroying each
other.

The mystics mean that the Deity, which can be
participated in only supernaturally by sanctifying grace, is superior
to the absolute perfections that it contains formally and eminently.
These perfections, such as being, life, intelligence, can be shared
in naturally and are, in fact, participated in by stones, plants, and
the human soul. The Deity thus appears as the inaccessible light
superior to every name.

Likewise when the mystics speak hyperbolically of the
nothingness of the creature, they mean only that the creature of
itself is nothing, and that, although it actually exists through the
creative act, it is, in comparison with God, lower and poorer than
words can express. All these excessively lengthy circumlocutions are
summed up in the more expressive term: the nothingness of the
creature.

This legitimate hyperbole is already found in
Scripture, as St. Thomas points out in reference to the expression of
Isaias: “Therefore is the wrath of God kindled against His
people, and He hath stretched out His hand upon them and struck them:
and the mountains were troubled.”14
In Scripture, says St. Thomas, hyperbole exceeds not the truth, but
the judgment of men, in this sense that God is greater than one can
believe, and the punishments that He announces to the wicked
transcend what one can imagine. In profane writings, hyperbole is a
rhetorical figure which augments excessively the measure of things in
order to produce a more vivid impression on the mind of the reader:
for example, to indicate a very tall man, the word giant is used.
Thus human poetry uses hyperbole because of the smallness of human
things which it wishes to magnify, whereas the divine poetry of the
prophets, of the Psalmist, and that of the great mystics makes use of
metaphor and hyperbole because of the infinite elevation of divine
things, which it could not otherwise express.15
Hence there is neither error nor formal exaggeration in scriptural
hyperbole, nor in that of the great mystics. The exaggeration is only
material, for example, when one speaks of the nothingness of the
creature, for thereby the author wishes to convey something that is
very true, namely, that in comparison with God, the creature is more
poor and deficient than can be expressed; and by contrast God is far
more perfect than words can tell.

Hyperbole of the same type is found in these words of
Christ: “If thy right eye scandalize thee, pluck it out and
cast it from thee. . . . If thy right hand scandalize thee, cut it
off.”16
It is not a question here of mutilation; Christ uses a vivid
expression to point out the gravity of the danger He is speaking of
and the urgent necessity of defending oneself against it. Likewise
St. Paul, in speaking of the advantages of Judaism, says: “I
count all things to be but loss for the excellent knowledge of Jesus
Christ, my Lord; for whom I have suffered the loss of all things and
count them but as dung, that I may gain Christ.”17

Blessed Angela of Foligno is fond of mystical
hyperbole and antithesis when she speaks of the great darkness and of
the inner life of God, which is above the perfections of intelligence
and love, which are identified in it without disappearing. She
writes: “I see nothing and I see all; certitude is obtained in
the darkness;”18
that is, I see nothing determinate, but I see all the divine
perfections united, fused in an ineffable manner in the eminence of
the Deity. What she says in this mystical outburst, Cajetan says in
abstract form in the loftiest parts of his commentary on St. Thomas’
Treatise on the Trinity.19

St. John of the Cross likes to use mystical hyperbole
also in explaining his doctrine, for example, in The Ascent of Mount
Carmel: “All things in heaven and earth are nothing in
comparison with God. ‘I beheld the earth,’ saith He, ‘and
lo, it was void and a thing of nothing, and the heavens, and there
was no light in them’ (Jer. 4: 23)’ The earth, ‘void
and nothing,’ signifies that the earth and all it contains are
nothing, and the heavens without light, that all the lights of
heaven, in comparison with God, are perfect darkness. Thus all
created things, with the affections bestowed upon them, are nothing,
because they are a hindrance, and the privation of our transformation
in God.”20

To judge by the engraving which serves as a
frontispiece to The Ascent of Mount Carmel, the author seems
to demand excessive abnegation. On the narrow path of perfection, he
wrote: “Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing”; but if he
demands so much, it is because he wishes to lead souls to great
heights by the most direct route. Above, he wrote: “Since I
wish nothing through self-love, all is given to me, without my going
in search of it.” He explains this statement in the following
manner in The Ascent: “He has greater joy and comfort in
creatures if he detaches himself from them; and he can have no joy in
them if he considers them as his own. He acquires also in this
detachment from creatures a clear comprehension of them, so as to
understand perfectly the truths that relate to them, both naturally
and supernaturally. For this reason his joy in them is widely
different from his who is attached to them, and far nobler. The
former rejoices in their truth, the latter in their deceptiveness;
the former in their best, and the latter in their worst, conditions;
the former in their substantial worth, and the latter in their
seeming and accidental nature, through his senses only. For sense
cannot grasp or comprehend more than the accidents, but the mind,
purified from the clouds and species of the accidents, penetrates to
the interior truth of things, for that is its proper object. . . .
The negation and purgation of this joy leaves the judgment clear as
the sky when the mists are scattered. The former, therefore, has joy
in all things, but his joy is not dependent upon them, neither does
it arise from their being his own; and the latter, in so far as he
regards them as his own, loses in general all joy whatever.”21
This is indeed what St. Paul says: “Having nothing, and
possessing all things.”22
St. Francis of Assisi enjoyed the landscapes of Umbria incomparably
more than the proprietors of those lands, who were busy making them
materially fructify to the greatest possible extent.

The mystics themselves, it is evident, explain the
hyperbole and antithesis to which they have recourse in order to draw
us from our somnolence and to try to make us glimpse the elevation of
divine things and the value of the one thing necessary.

A comparison of their language with that of
theologians will be profitable that we may see how they clarify each
other.

COMPARISON OF THE
LANGUAGE OF SPIRITUAL WRITERS AND THAT OF THEOLOGIANS

Each of these two terminologies has its merits. For
the theologian’s study, his more abstract and precise language,
which is limited to essential terms, is preferable. But to lead souls
effectively to generous abnegation and union with God, the
terminology of the mystics is more appropriate because it is more
vivid, more alluring, and also more brief, and, in a concrete manner,
more comprehensive. These qualities spring from the fact that it
expresses not only abstract concepts, but concepts that have been
lived, and an ardent love of God; consequently it avoids many
circumlocutions and speculative distinctions which would arrest the
impulse of the love of God. It leads the soul to seek God Himself
beyond the formulas of faith and through them. It reminds us that, if
the truth of our judgments is in our mind, the good toward which the
will tends is outside our mind, in God Himself.23
It leads also to the thought that what is unknowable and ineffable in
God is sovereignly good and can be ardently loved without being
really known. It is inspired by the thought which St. Thomas
formulates as follows: “(In this life) the love of God is
better than the knowledge of God,”24
for by knowledge we in a way draw God to ourselves by imposing on
Him, so to speak, the limit of our ideas, whereas love draws us and
lifts us toward God.

The distinction between these two terminologies
appears, for example, in a comparison of our Savior’s words
with a theological commentary on them. In verse twenty-five, chapter
twelve of St. John’s Gospel, Christ says briefly, vividly, and
concretely: ‘He that loveth his life shall lose It; and he that
hateth his life in this world, keepeth it unto life eternal”
That is: he who loves his life in an inordinate manner, for example,
by refusing to undergo martyrdom rather than to deny his faith, will
lose his soul; whereas he who in this world has a holy hatred of his
life, for example, by undergoing martyrdom for the Gospel’s
sake, will save his soul for eternal life.

But if we attempt a theological explanation of these
highly vivid words of Christ, we will construe them in the following
abstract manner: he who loves his life with a love contrary to
charity will lose it. He will not lose it, however, because he loves
his life with a natural love, which is distinct from charity without
being contrary to it; and with even greater reason, if he loves it
with a love which is included in charity itself. It is St. Thomas25
who thus distinguishes these three very different ways of loving
one’s life: the first, contrary to charity; the second,
distinct from charity; the third, included in charity, when we wish
the life of grace and that of heaven in order to glorify God. These
distinctions are indispensable to the theologian; they are those of
the speculative intellect which analyzes, whereas Christ’s
words lead immediately to love and to the generosity of love.

Likewise, the mystics speak briefly of the
nothingness of the creature in order to express what theologians
would state in the five following propositions: (1) the creature of
itself is nothing, for it was created ex nihilo;(2) compared
to God, the already existing creature is nothing, for there is no
more perfection after creation, no more being than before, although
there are now more beings;(3) by its essential defectibility the
creature tends to nothingness and sin;(4) sin is less than
nothingness itself, for it is not only the negation, but the
privation of a good; it is a disorder and an offense against God;(5)
the creature is nothing in our affection if we love it without
subordinating it to God, for thus it turns us away from Him.

These five propositions, which are necessary for the
abstract study of truth, are summed up in the vivid expression of
spiritual writers: the nothingness of the creature. This hyperbolical
expression is not false; it would be so only if the word
“nothingness” were taken in its literal meaning. Then it
would signify that God created nothing outside of Himself and,
consequently, one could not speak at all of creatures. All that we
have said is clear, and does not greatly need explanation.

We may exemplify the distinction between the two
terminologies by comparing the theological treatise on charity with
its multiple questions; articles, objections, answers, and
distinctions, with what The Imitationsays about the marvelous
effects of divine love: “Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing
stronger, nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant,
nothing fuller or better in heaven or in earth: for love is born of
God, and cannot rest but in God, above all created things. The lover
flieth, runneth, and rejoiceth; he is free and cannot be restrained.
. . . Love watcheth, and sleeping slumbereth not. When weary it is
not tired; when straightened is not constrained; when frightened is
not disturbed; but like a vivid flame and a burning torch, it
mounteth upwards and securely passeth through all. . . . He that
loveth must willingly embrace all that is hard and bitter for the
sake of his Beloved, and never suffer himself to be turned-away from
Him by any contrary occurrences whatsoever.”26

WHICH OF THESE TWO
TERMINOLOGIES IS THE LOFTIER?

Which of these two terminologies is the loftier
depends on the principle formulated by Aristotle and often recalled
by St. Thomas: “The terms of language are the signs of our
ideas, and our ideas are the similitude of realities.”27
The more elevated terminology is, therefore, the one that expresses a
loftier thought. Now infused contemplation, in spite of its obscurity
and lack of precision, is loftier than theological speculation.
Therefore the language of the mystics, which expresses this
contemplation, is more elevated than that of theologians. Moreover,
that great mystics may acquaint us with their intimate experiences,
it is fitting that they should be great poets, like St. John of the
Cross or Ruysbroeck; it is not necessary for the theologian to be a
poet.

However, if the language of the mystics is in itself
more lofty, because it expresses a higher knowledge, it translates
this knowledge less exactly than the language of theologians
expresses their thought. But we see that this point of view is
secondary, if we remember what St. Thomas, following Aristotle, says
in the Contra Gentes: “Although we know very little
about the loftiest things, the little that we do know about them is
more loved and desired than the most exact knowledge that can be had
of inferior things.”28
Thus a probable or congruous argument on the mystery of the Trinity
is, by reason of the dignity of its object, worth more than all the
geometric demonstrations of Euclid.29

What we have just said is confirmed by the fact that
Christ’s manner of speaking in Scripture is most lofty; now,
the language of spiritual writers more closely resembles it than does
scholastic terminology. For example, without feeling that they need
to explain them, spiritual writers repeat Christ’s words: “If
thou didst know the gift of God, . . . thou perhaps wouldst have
asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water . . .
springing up into life everlasting.”30
“If any man thirst, let him come to Me, and drink. . . . Out of
his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”31
Theologians, on the other hand, would offer the following explanation
of these words: sanctifying grace, metaphorically expressed by the
living water, is an infused habit, received in the essence of the
soul, from which spring in our faculties the infused virtues and the
gifts of the Holy Ghost, all ordered to eternal life. This
theological commentary is in relation to the words of our Savior what
the polygon inscribed within a circumference is in relation to it.
The commentary shows the multiple wealth of the divine utterance, but
in its simplicity this saying is superior to the commentary.

Consequently these two terminologies clarify each
other, like the doctrine of St. Thomas and that of St. John of the
Cross, like acquired wisdom, according to the perfect use of reason
enlightened by faith, and infused wisdom or the gift of wisdom.32

The terminology of the Gospel, such as it is kept by
spiritual writers, preserves the spirit of faith and love of God,
that is, the very spirit of the theological doctrine relative to the
majesty of God and the inferiority of the creature. From this point
of view, an antimystical scholastic theologian would be a bad
theologian.

On the other hand, scholastic terminology is
necessary, if not for the individual interior life of the faithful,
at least for the doctrinal exposition of revealed truth in opposition
to the inexact statements that disfigure it. Without the suitability
and precision of theological terms, it is easy to fall into these
errors; for example, one exaggerates the congruous reasons for the
mysteries of faith and proposes them as if they were demonstrative,
or indeed one exaggerates the natural desire to see God to such an
extent as to make of it, with Baius, an efficacious natural desire,
with the result that grace would not be a gratuitous gift, but a
favor due to our nature. For this reason the great mystics, like St.
Teresa and St. John of the Cross, highly esteemed great theologians,
whereas false mystics, like Molinos, gave them no importance
whatever.

Therefore the priest who directs souls should know
these two terminologies and be able to explain the one by the other.
No one can know the true meaning of the language of spiritual writers
if he is unable to explain it theologically; and, on the other hand,
no one can know the sublimity of theology if he is ignorant of its
relations to mysticism.

Chapter 2: The Entrance into the Illuminative Way

Scripture often recalls, even to those who are in the
state of grace, the necessity of a more profound conversion toward
God. Our Lord Himself spoke to His apostles, who had been following
Him from the beginning of His ministry, about the necessity of
becoming converted. St. Mark relates, in fact, that when Christ made
His last journey into Galilee with His apostles, on reaching
Capharnaum He asked them: “What did you treat of in the way?
But they held their peace,” says the Evangelist, “for in
the way they had disputed among themselves which of them should be
the greatest.”33
And in St. Matthew, where the same occurrence is recounted, we read:
“And Jesus, calling unto Him a little child, set him in the
midst of them, and said: Amen I say to you, unless you be converted
and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom
of heaven.”34
Christ was speaking here to the apostles, who had already taken part
in His ministry, who would receive Communion at the Last Supper,
three of whom had accompanied Him to Thabor; they were in the state
of grace, and yet He spoke to them of the necessity of being
converted in order to enter profoundly into the kingdom or the divine
intimacy. To this end He particularly recommended to them the
humility of the child of God, who is conscious of his indigence, his
weakness, his dependence on the heavenly Father.

Christ even spoke especially to Peter about his
second conversion, just before the Passion, when once again, as St.
Luke tells us: “There was also a strife amongst them [the
apostles], which of them should seem to be the greater. And He said
to them: . . . But he that is the greater among you, let him become
as the younger; and he that is the leader, as he that serveth.”35
And to Peter He added: “Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired
to have you, that he may sift you as wheat: but I have prayed for
thee, that thy faith fail not: and thou, being once converted,
confirm thy brethren.”36
On this occasion, Christ is speaking of Peter’s second
conversion; the first had taken place when he left his work as a
fisherman to follow Jesus.

The liturgy often refers to the second conversion,
particularly when it recalls these words of St. Paul: “You have
heard Him, and have been taught in Him, as the truth is in Jesus: to
put off, according to former conversation, the old man, who is
corrupted according to the desire of error, and be renewed in the
spirit of your mind: and put on the new man, who according to God is
created in justice and holiness of truth.”37
This spiritual renewal presupposes a first conversion. The Apostle of
the Gentiles speaks of it again in the Epistle to the Colossians:
“Lie not one to another: stripping yourselves of the old man
with his deeds, and putting on the new, him who is renewed unto
knowledge, according to the image of Him that created him. . . . But
above all these things have charity, which is the bond of
perfection.”38

When the liturgy recalls these words during Advent
and at the beginning of Lent, it addresses not only souls in the
state of mortal sin that are in need of conversion from evil to good,
but also many Christians already in the state of grace who are still
very imperfect and have to be converted from a relatively mediocre to
a fervent Christian life. On Ash Wednesday it recalls to them Joel’s
words: “Now, therefore, saith the Lord: Be converted to Me with
all your heart, in fasting and in weeping and in mourning. And rend
your hearts, and not your garments, and turn to the Lord your God;
for He is gracious and merciful, patient and rich in mercy, and ready
to repent of the evil.”39
These words are so much the better understood in proportion as the
soul that hears them is more advanced and, although in the state of
grace for many years, feels the need of a more profound conversion,
the necessity of turning the depths of its will more completely
toward God. The laborer who has plowed a furrow goes over it a second
time to force the plow deeper and turn over the earth which must
nourish the wheat.

From this point of view, which is admitted by all,
the best spiritual writers have spoken of the necessity of a second
conversion to enter truly on the illuminative way of proficients.

Among modern authors, Father Louis Lallemant, S.J.
(d. 1680), insists on this point in his beautiful book, La
Doctrine Spirituelle. Before him St. Benedict,40
St. Catherine of Siena, Blessed Henry Suso, and Tauler spoke of it at
considerable length; but it is principally St. John of the Cross who
has treated of this second conversion, which he calls the passive
purification of the senses, and which in his opinion marks the
entrance into the illuminative way.

We shall set forth the doctrine of these authors,
recalling first of all what Father Lallemant says on this subject,
since his teaching is easier to understand because it is nearer to
our own times. We shall then better grasp what St. Catherine of Siena
and Tauler teach, and finally what St. John of the Cross affirms with
originality and profundity.

We shall now see what the author of La Doctrine
Spirituelle says:

of the fact of this second conversion in the lives of
the saints,

of its necessity and fruits.

THE FACT OF THIS SECOND
CONVERSION IN THE LIVES OF THE SERVANTS OF GOD

Father Lallemant states on this subject: “Two
conversions ordinarily occur in the majority of the saints and in
religious who become perfect: one, by which they devote themselves to
the service of God; the other, by which they give themselves entirely
to perfection. We see this fact in the lives of the apostles when
Christ called them and when he sent the Holy Ghost upon them;41
in St. Teresa, and in her confessor, Father Alvarez, and in several
others.42
The second conversion does not occur in all religious, because of
their negligence. The time of this conversion in our lives43
is commonly the third year of novitiate. Let us, therefore, take
fresh courage now and not spare ourselves in the service of God,
because it will never be harder for us than it is at present.44
As time goes on, this way will gradually be rendered less rough, and
the difficulties will be smoothed away, because the more pure our
hearts become, the more abundantly we shall receive graces.”45
At this juncture a decisive step must be taken.46

What Father Lallemant says here may be completed by
examining the lives of many servants of God. There is a painful
period, difficult to traverse, which is often set forth, in the lives
of the saints and in the processes of beatification, under the title
of “Interior Sufferings”; this period marks the entrance
into a higher spiritual life. We believe also that notable light
would be thrown on the lives of the saints and also on the causes of
beatification, if it were more explicitly noted that this period
corresponds to what St. John of the Cross calls the passive night of
the senses, and that another period, similar to it in certain
respects, occurs later. According to this doctor of the Church, the
latter corresponds to the passive night of the spirit.

This observation is of a nature to throw light on the
most obscure moments in the lives of the servants of God. If, in
reality, between the two particularly difficult periods we have just
spoken of, the heroic degree of the virtues can already be
established, and if it is even more clearly proved after the second
of these two periods, it is a sign that the servant of God has indeed
successfully passed through both of these periods. It is likewise a
sign that he must have had a great spirit of faith, of trust in God
in order to surmount the difficulties found therein. Thus these two
obscure periods, or to use the expression of St. John of the Cross,
these two nights, one of which marks the entrance into the
illuminative way of proficients, the other into the unitive way of
the perfect, far from being an objection against the sanctity of a
soul, serve rather to bring it out more clearly. Great merit is, in
fact, necessary to traverse them well, so as not to fall back at this
time and to come forth truly fortified by these two trials. The lives
of the saints are greatly illumined in the light of these principles.

THE NECESSITY OF THE
SECOND CONVERSION

Not only is this second conversion a fact which is
verified in the lives of the servants of God; its necessity is
manifest because of the inordinate self-love that still remains in
beginners after months and years of labor. Of the necessity of the
second conversion, Father Lallemant says: “The reason why some
reach perfection only very late or not at all is because they follow
only nature and human sense in practically everything. They pay
little or no heed to the Holy Ghost, whose appropriate work is to
enlighten, to direct, to warm.

“The majority of religious, even of good and
virtuous ones, follow in their private conduct and in their direction
of others only reason and good sense, in which a number among them
excel. This rule is good, but it does not suffice for Christian
perfection.47

“Such people ordinarily direct their lives by
the common feeling of those with whom they live, and as the latter
are imperfect, although their lives are not disorderly, they will
never reach the sublime ways of the spirit, because the number of the
perfect is very small. They live like the ordinary run of people, and
their manner of governing others is imperfect.

“The Holy Ghost waits some time for them to
enter into their interior and, seeing there the operations of grace
and those of nature, to be disposed to follow His direction; but if
they misuse the time and favor which He offers them, He finally
abandons them to themselves and leaves them in their interior
darkness and ignorance, which they preferred and in which they live
thereafter amid great dangers for their salvation.”48

The same author, who writes for religious, says: “The
salvation of a religious is inseparably linked to his perfection, so
that if he abandons care for his spiritual advancement, he gradually
approaches ruin and loss. If he does not come to this pass, it is
because God, wishing to save him, mercifully comes to his assistance
before his fall. All the masters of the spiritual life agree on this
maxim: He who does not advance, falls back. But it sometimes happens,
because retrogression takes place imperceptibly, that a few who have
already made some progress allow a considerable period to elapse
before they realize that they are falling back.”49

The necessity of a second conversion arises from all
that remains in us of often unconscious egoism which mingles in the
greater number of our acts. In a number of people this necessity
comes from their unwillingness to be considered naive and their
failure to recognize sufficiently the naivete of a superior
simplicity which should grow in them. As a result, they become less
simple and true with God, their superiors, and themselves. They lose
sight practically of the grandeur of the theological virtues, of the
importance of humility; then they no longer understand Christ’s
words: “Unless you be converted, and become as little children,
you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Under the
pretext of prudence, they begin to consider the little aspects of
great things and to see less and less the great aspect of the daily
duties of Christian life and the value of fidelity in little things.
They forget that the day is composed of hours and the hour of
minutes. They neglect a number of their obligations and gradually, in
place of the radical simplicity of a gaze that was already lofty, a
simplicity which should become that of contemplation, they find
themselves in the quasi-learned complexity of a waning knowledge.

On this subject Father Lallemant says: “In
religion (itself) there is a little world, the component parts of
which are the esteem of human talents, of important employments,
offices, and positions, the love and search for glory and applause,
for rest and a calm life. These are the things the demon uses as a
puppet show to amuse and deceive us. He sets it all in motion before
our eyes in such a way that we dwell on it and let ourselves be
seduced, preferring vain appearances to true and solid goods.”50

Human talents are indeed often preferred to the great
supernatural virtues. The same author adds: “Only prayer can
protect us from this delusion. Prayer it is that teaches us to judge
of things in a holy manner, to look at them in the light of truth,
which dissipates their false splendor and their spurious charms.”

Elsewhere he says: “We commit more than a
hundred acts of pride in a day without, so to speak, being aware of
it.”51
The ruin of souls results from the multiplication of venial sins,
which causes the diminution of divine lights or inspirations.52
Nor is it sufficient to direct our attention toward God as an
afterthought, if our act remains entirely natural and our heart is
not truly offered to God. A superficial oblation of self does not
suffice; there must be a genuine new conversion, a turning of the
heart toward God.53

The fruits of this second conversion are pointed out
by the same author in the course of advice to preachers: “People
kill themselves dying to produce fine sermons, and yet they reap
scarcely any fruit. What is the reason? It is because preaching is
just as much a supernatural function as the salvation of souls to
which it is directed, and the instrument must be proportioned to the
end. . . . The majority of preachers have sufficient learning, but
they have not enough devotion or sanctity.

“The true means of acquiring the science of the
saints . . . is to have recourse not so much to books as to interior
humility, purity of heart, recollection, and prayer. . . . When a
soul has attained to entire purity of heart, God Himself instructs
it, at times by the unction of spiritual consolations and tastes, at
other times by gentle and affectionate lights, which teach it better
how to speak to the hearts of its auditors than study and other human
means can. . . . But we cannot get rid of our own sufficiency, nor
abandon ourselves to God.

“An interior man will make more impression on
hearts by a single word that is animated by the spirit of God than
another by an entire discourse costing him much work and in which he
exhausted all the power of his reasoning.”54
Such are the fruits of the second conversion. The author of The
Imitation often speaks of them, especially when he describes the
fervor with which we should amend our lives. He says: “A
diligent and zealous person will make greater progress, though he
have more passions, than another who is well regulated, but less
fervent in the pursuit of virtues. . . . Study, likewise, especially
to guard against and to get the better of such things as oftenest
displease thee in others. . . . As thine eye observeth others, so
again thou art also observed by others. . . . But if thou give
thyself to fervor, thou shalt find great peace; and thou shalt feel
thy labor light, through the grace of God, and for the love of
virtue.”55

Thus, intimate conversation with God, which is the
basis of the interior life, will gradually take the place of
conversation with ourselves.56

Chapter 3: The Second Conversion According to Several Spiritual
Writers

We discussed in the preceding chapter the second
conversion according to the teaching of Father Louis Lallemant, S.J.,
one of the best spiritual writers of the seventeenth century. In the
fourteenth century, we find the same teaching under another form in
the writings of St. Catherine of Siena (d. 1380), Tauler (d. 1361 ),
and Blessed Henry Suso (d. 1366), all of whom belong to the family of
St. Dominic.

THE SECOND CONVERSION IN
The Dialogue OF ST. CATHERINE OF SIENA

St. Catherine of Siena discusses the second
conversion in chapters 60 and 63 of her Dialogue, in reference to
imperfect love of God and neighbor, and cites as an example the
second conversion of Peter during the Passion. We read in chapter 60:
“Some there are who have become faithful servants, serving Me
with fidelity without servile fear of punishment, but rather with
love. This very love, however, if they serve Me with a view to their
own profit, or the delight and pleasure which they find in Me, is
imperfect. Dost thou know what proves the imperfection of this love?
The withdrawal of the consolations which they found in Me, and the
insufficiency and short duration of their love for their neighbor,
which grows weak by degrees, and ofttimes disappears. Toward Me their
love grows weak when, on occasion, in order to exercise them in
virtue and raise them above their imperfection, I withdraw from their
minds My consolation and allow them to fall into battles and
perplexities. This I do so that, coming to perfect self-knowledge,
they may know that of themselves they are nothing and have no grace,
and, accordingly in time of battle fly to Me as their benefactor,
seeking Me alone, with true humility, for which purpose I treat them
thus, withdrawing from them consolation indeed, but not grace. At
such a time these weak ones of whom I speak relax their energy,
impatiently turning backward, and so sometimes abandon, under color
of virtue, many of their exercises, saying to themselves: This labor
does not profit me. All this they do, because they feel themselves
deprived of mental consolation. Such a soul acts imperfectly, for she
has not yet unwound the bandage of spiritual self-love, for had she
unwound it, she would see that, in truth, everything proceeds from
Me, that no leaf of a tree falls to the ground without My providence,
and that what I give and promise to My creatures, I give and promise
to them for their sanctification, which is the good and the end for
which I created them.”

In imperfect or mercenary love of God and neighbor,
the soul, therefore, almost unconsciously seeks itself. It must “tear
out the root of spiritual self-love.” As The Dialogue
states: “It was with this imperfect love that St. Peter loved
the sweet and good Jesus, My only-begotten Son, enjoying most
pleasantly His sweet conversation, but, when the time of trouble
came, he failed, and so disgraceful was his fall, that not only could
he not bear any pain him self, but his terror of the very approach of
pain caused him to fall, and deny the Lord, with the words, ‘I
have never known Him.’ “

In chapter 63 of The Dialogue, the saint says,
in speaking of the passage from mercenary to filial love: “Every
perfection and every virtue proceeds from charity, and charity is
nourished by humility, which results from the knowledge and holy
hatred of self, that is, sensuality. . . . To arrive thereat . . . a
man must exercise himself in the extirpation of his perverse
self-will, both spiritual and temporal, hiding himself in his own
house, as did Peter, who, after the sin of denying My Son, began to
weep. Yet his lamentations were imperfect, and remained so until
after the forty days, that is, until after the Ascension. But when My
Truth returned, to Me in His humanity, Peter and the others concealed
themselves in the house awaiting the coming of the Holy Spirit, which
My Truth had promised them. They remained barred in from fear,
because the soul always fears until she arrives at true love. But
when they had persevered in fasting and in humble and continual
prayer, until they had received the abundance of the Holy Spirit,
they lost their fear, and followed and preached Christ crucified.”

St. Catherine of Siena shows in this passage that the
imperfect soul which loves the Lord with a love that is still
mercenary, ought to follow Peter’s example after his denial of
Christ. Not infrequently at this time Providence permits us also to
fall into some visible fault to humiliate us and oblige us to enter
into ourselves, as Peter did, when immediately after his fall, seeing
that Jesus looked at him, he “wept bitterly.”57

In connection with Peter’s second conversion,
we should recall that St. Thomas teaches58
that even after a serious sin, if a man has a truly fervent
contrition proportionate to the degree of grace lost, he recovers
this degree of grace; he may even receive a higher degree if he has a
still more fervent contrition. He is, therefore, not obliged to
recommence his ascent from the very beginning, but continues it,
taking it up again at the point he had reached when he fell. A
mountain climber who stumbles halfway up, rises immediately, and
continues the ascent. The same is true in the spiritual order.
Everything leads us to think that by the fervor of his repentance
Peter not only recovered the degree of grace that he had lost, but
was raised to a higher degree of the supernatural life. The Lord
permitted this fall only to cure him of his presumption so that he
might become more humble and thereafter place his confidence, not in
himself, but in God. Thus, the humiliated Peter on his knees weeping
over his sin is greater than the Peter on Thabor, who did not as yet
sufficiently know his frailty.

The second conversion may also take place, though we
have no grave sin to expiate, for example, at a time when we are
suffering from an injustice, or a calumny, which, under divine grace,
awakens in us not sentiments of vengeance, but hunger and thirst for
the justice of God. In such a case, the generous forgiving of a grave
injury sometimes draws down on the soul of the one who pardons, a
great grace, which makes him enter a higher region of the spiritual
life. The soul then receives a new insight into divine things and an
impulse which it did not know before. David received such a grace
when he pardoned Semei who had outraged and cursed him, while
throwing stones at him.59

A more profound insight into the life of the soul may
originate also on the occasion of the death of a dear one, or of a
disaster, or of a great rebuff, when anything occurs which is of a
nature to reveal the vanity of earthly things and by contrast the
importance of the one thing necessary, union with God, the prelude of
the life of heaven.

In her Dialogue St. Catherine also speaks
often of the necessity of leaving the imperfect state in which a
person serves God more or less through interest and for his own
satisfaction, and in which he wishes to go to God the Father without
passing through Jesus crucified.60
To leave this imperfect state, the soul which still seeks itself must
be converted that it may cease to seek itself and may truly go in
search of God by the way of abnegation, which is that of profound
peace.

THE SECOND CONVERSION
ACCORDING TO BLESSED HENRY SUSO AND TAULER

The works of Blessed Henry Suso contain a number of
instructions relative to the second conversion. He himself
experienced this conversion after a few years of religious life,
during which he had slipped into some negligences. Particular
attention ought to be given to what he says about the necessity of a
more interior and deep Christian life in religious who give
themselves most exclusively to study, and in others who are chiefly
attentive to exterior observances and austerities. In the divine
light he saw “these two classes of persons circling about the
Savior’s cross, without being able to reach Him,”61
because both groups sought themselves, either in study or in exterior
observances, and because they judged each other without charity. He
understood then that he should remain in complete self-abnegation,
ready to accept all that God might will, and to accept it with love,
at the same time practicing great fraternal charity.62

Tauler, who, as Bossuet says, is “one of the
most solid and most correct of the mystics,”63
speaks of the second conversion especially in two of his sermons,
that for the second Sunday of Lent, and the one for the Monday before
Palm Sunday.64

In the sermon for the second Sunday of Lent, Tauler
points out those who need the second conversion; they are those who
still more or less resemble the scribes and Pharisees. We may
summarize his teaching as follows:

The
scribes, he says, were wise men who made much of their learning,
whereas the Pharisees, who were strongly attached to their practices
and observances, highly esteemed their own piety.65
We recognize in these two classes the two most harmful evil
inclinations that can be found among pious people. . . . Nothing good
comes from either of these dispositions. Nevertheless, rare are they
who are not somewhat retained in one or the other of these evil
inclinations or even in both of them at the same time; but some are
much more held than others.

By the
scribes we must understand intellectual men who value everything
according to the standard of their reason or sensibility. They pass
on to their reason what their senses have furnished them, and thus
they come to understand great things. They glory in this knowledge
and speak eloquently, but the depths of their souls, whence the truth
should come, remain empty and desolate.

The
Pharisees, on the other hand, are pious people who have a good
opinion of themselves, think they amount to something, hold firmly to
their observances and their practices, believe there is nothing
beyond these, and aspire to esteem and consideration because of these
practices. They condemn those who do not see things as they do (even
if their lives are in no way seriously reprehensible).

(Tauler
certainly does not believe that these last are in the illuminative
way.)

Let
everyone, he adds, guard against these Pharisaical ways in the depths
of his soul, and be watchful that no false sanctity hide there.

In this connection we should recall what the Gospel
tells us about the prayer of the Pharisee and the publican, a parable
which shows the necessity of a more profound conversion.

What occurs at the beginning of the second
conversion? God begins to pursue the soul, and it likewise seeks God,
not, however, without a struggle against the inclinations of the
exterior man and without anxiety. This state is manifested by a keen
desire for God and for perfection, and also by what St. Paul calls
the struggle of the spirit against the flesh or the inferior part of
man.66
From this struggle originates anxiety or even a certain anguish; the
soul asks itself if it will reach the end so keenly desired.

Tauler gives a good description of this state, which
St. John of the Cross later on calls the passive purification of the
senses, in which there is a beginning of infused contemplation. In
the sermon for the second Sunday of Lent, the old Dominican master
declares: “From this pursuit of God (and of the soul who seek
each other) keen anguish results. When a man is plunged into this
anxiety and becomes aware of this pursuit of God in his soul, it is
then without doubt that Jesus comes and enters into him. But when one
does not feel this pursuit or experience this anguish, Jesus does not
come.

“Of all those who do not let themselves be
caught by this pursuit and this anguish, none ever turns out well;
they remain what they are, they do not enter into themselves, and
consequently they know nothing of what is taking place in them.”

These last words show that in Tauler’s opinion
this passive purification is indeed in the normal way of sanctity and
not an essentially extraordinary grace like revelations, visions, and
the stigmata. It is a purification that must be undergone on earth
while meriting, or in purgatory without meriting, in order to reach
perfect purity of soul, without which one cannot enter heaven. If a
man must labor to obtain a doctor’s degree in theology or law,
he must also toil to reach true perfection.

Though some people stricken with neurasthenia
erroneously believe they are in this state, it often happens that
interior souls who are truly in this anxiety and who seek light from
a confessor, obtain only this answer: “Do not trouble yourself;
those are only scruples. Remain in peace; the passive purifications
that certain books speak of are very rare and extraordinary.”
After this answer, the soul is no more illuminated than before and
has the impression of not having been understood.

What Tauler speaks of in the above passage is truly
in the normal way of sanctity or of the full perfection of Christian
life. God appears here as the Hunter in pursuit of souls for their
greatest good.

What should the soul do that is thus pursued by the
Savior? Tauler answers: “In truth, it should do what the woman
of Canaan did: go to Jesus and cry in a loud voice, that is, with an
ardent desire: ‘Lord, Son of David, have pity on me!’

“Ah! my children, this divine pursuit, this
hunt provokes (in some souls) an appealing cry of immense force; the
supplication of the spirit carries thousands of leagues and more
(that is, even to the Most High); it is a sigh which comes from a
measureless depth. This desire of the soul reaches far beyond nature;
it is the Holy Ghost Himself who must utter this sigh in us, as St.
Paul says: ‘The Spirit Himself asketh for us with unspeakable
groanings.’”67

These words of Tauler show that in his opinion and,
as we shall see, later on in that of St. John of the Cross, the soul
in this struggle enters on the mystical life through a special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost and a beginning of contemplation, in
spite of the aridity in which it remains. The Holy Ghost, who dwells
in all the just, begins to render His influence manifest.

Tauler points out here that, after this cry of the
soul, God treats it at times as Jesus did the woman of Canaan; He
acts as if He did not hear or were not willing to grant its prayer.
This is the time to insist, as the woman of Canaan did so admirably,
under the divine inspiration which pursued her in the midst of
obvious rebuffs.

“Ah! my children,” says Tauler, “how
greatly then should the desire in the depths of the soul become more
keen and more urgent. . . . Even if God refused to give bread, even
if He disowned one as His child . . . , one should answer Him as did
the Canaanite: ‘Yea Lord; for the whelps also eat of the crumbs
that fall from the table of their masters.’

“Ah! my children,” adds Tauler, “if
one could succeed in thus penetrating the depths of the truth (of our
consciences) not by learned commentaries, words, or indeed with the
senses, but into the true depth! Then neither God nor any creature
could tread on you, crush you, bury you so deeply that you would not
plunge yourselves truly much deeper still. Though you should be
subjected to affronts, scorn, and rebuffs, you would remain firm in
perseverance, you would plunge still deeper, animated by a complete
confidence, and you would ever increase your zeal.68
Ah! yes, my children, everything depends on this; a man who reached
this point, would be really successful. These roads, and these alone,
lead, in truth, without any intermediary station to God. But to some
it seems impossible to reach this degree of limitless annihilation
and to remain thus in this depth with perseverance, with entire and
veritable assurance, as this poor Canaanite woman did. Consequently
Christ answered her: ‘O woman! great is thy faith. Be it done
to thee as thou wilt.’ In truth, this is the answer that will
be made to all those who will be found in such dispositions and on
this road.”

Tauler relates at this point what happened to a young
girl who, believing herself far from God, nevertheless abandoned
herself entirely to His holy will, no matter what it might bring, and
gave herself up wholly for eternity; then, he says, “she was
carried very far above every intermediary and completely drawn into
the divine abyss.”

To show the fruits of the second conversion, the old
master adds: “Take the last place, as the Gospel teaches, and
you shall be lifted up. But those who exalt themselves will be
humbled. Desire only what God has willed from all eternity; accept
the place which in His most amiable will He has decided should be
yours.69

“My children, it is by a person’s
complete renunciation of self and of all that he possesses that he
goes to God. One drop of this renunciation, one rill of it,70
would better prepare a man and lead him nearer to God than if he had
stripped himself of all his garments and given them away, than if he
had eaten thorns and stones, supposing that nature could bear it. A
short moment lived in these dispositions would be more useful for us
than forty years following practices of our own choice. . . .

“For long years you go your own little way and
you do not advance, . . . a deplorable condition. Let us, therefore,
pray our Lord that we may plunge ourselves so profoundly in God that
we may be found in Him. Amen.”71

Such is Tauler’s description of the second
conversion in which the soul is far more profoundly “turned
toward God,” like the soil, for example, which, on second
plowing, is more deeply turned up that it may become really fruitful.

Tauler treats the same subject in the sermon for the
Monday before Palm Sunday72
while explaining the text: “If any man thirst, let him come to
Me, and drink. . . . Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living
water.”73
In this sermon he describes74
the soul’s thirst for God which arises under the inspiration of
the Holy Ghost, at the same time as a sort of disgust for everything
created, for everything in it that is inordinate, untrue, and vain.
This lively desire for God and this distaste for creatures are
accompanied by a struggle against the inordinate inclinations of the
sensibility and impatience. This is in reality the state that St.
John of the Cross later calls the passive purification of the senses.
Tauler describes it with an abundance of metaphors that today seem
excessive. He notes that after this trial there is a period of repose
and enjoyment.75
Then he describes the second series of trials by which the unitive
way of the perfect begins;76
these trials are those which St. John of the Cross calls the passive
night of the spirit.

This teaching, which is approximately the same under
varied forms in the works of St. Catherine of Siena, Blessed Henry
Suso, and Venerable Tauler, shows that to enter the illuminative way
of proficients a person needs what Father Lallemant and several
others have rightly called a second conversion. Then the soul begins
to understand Christ’s words to the apostles, who were arguing
to find out who was the first among them: “Amen I say to you,
unless you be converted and become as little children [by simplicity
and consciousness of your weakness], you shall not enter into the
kingdom of heaven.”77
The apostles were already in the state of grace, but they needed a
second conversion to enter the intimacy of the kingdom, to penetrate
deeply into it, that “the depths of the soul,” which
Tauler speaks of so frequently, might no longer contain any egoism or
self-love, but belong wholly to God so that God might truly reign in
it. Until His reign is established in the generous soul, the Lord
pursues it; and, under the divine inspiration, it will also seek Him
by an increasingly pure and strong desire, at the same time that it
ceases to seek itself. Then its eyes will be opened and it will see
that a number of those whom it judged severely are better than it.
This work is the divine work par excellence, that of the profound
purification of the soul; first of the sensitive part; then of the
spiritual part to the end that it may be established in the intimacy
of the divine union, the normal prelude of the life of heaven.

Chapter 4: The Passive Purification of the Senses and the Entrance
into the Illuminative Way

The entrance into the illuminative way, which is the
second conversion described by St. Catherine of Siena, Blessed Henry
Suso, Tauler, and Father Lallemant, is called by St. John of the
Cross the passive purification of the senses or the night of the
senses. At this point in our study we must see what St. John of the
Cross says about: (1) the necessity of this purification;(2) the way
it is produced;(3) the conduct to be observed at this difficult
time;(4) the trials which ordinarily accompany the purifying divine
action. These points will be the subject of this chapter and the
following one.

THE NECESSITY OF THIS
PURIFICATION

In The Dark Night of the Soul, St. John of the
Cross says: “The night of sense is common, and the lot of many:
these are the beginners”;78
and he adds farther on, after discussing this trial: “The soul
began to set out on the way of the spirit, the way of proficients,
which is also called the illuminative way, or the way of infused
contemplation, wherein God Himself teaches and refreshes the soul
without meditation or any active efforts that itself may deliberately
make.”79
Nevertheless the soul must always struggle to remove the obstacles to
this grace and to be faithful to it. These two texts are extremely
important, for they mark the age of the spiritual life in which the
purifying trial we are considering is ordinarily produced.

The necessity of this purification, as the saint
shows in the same book,80
arises from the defects of beginners, which may be reduced to three:
spiritual pride, spiritual sensuality, and spiritual sloth. St. John
of the Cross teaches that remains of the seven capital sins, like so
many deviations of the spiritual life, are found even here. And yet
the mystical doctor considers only the disorder that results from
them in our relations with God; he does not speak of all that taints
our dealings with our neighbor and the apostolate which may be under
our care.

Spiritual sensuality, with which we are especially
concerned here under the name of spiritual gluttony, consists in
being immoderately attached to the sensible consolations that God
sometimes grants in prayer. The soul seeks these consolations for
themselves, forgetting that they are not an end, but a means; it
prefers the savor of spiritual things to their purity, and thus seeks
itself in the things of God rather than God Himself, as it should. In
others, this self­seeking is in the exterior apostolate, in some
form or other of activity.

Spiritual sloth comes as a rule then from the fact
that, when spiritual gluttony or some other form of selfishness is
not satisfied to the desired extent, one falls into impatience and a
certain disgust for the work of sanctification as soon as it is a
question of advancing by the “narrow way.” The early
writers spoke much of this spiritual sloth and of this disgust, which
they called acedia.81
They even declared that acedia, when accentuated, leads to malice,
rancor, pusillanimity, discouragement, sluggishness, and dissipation
of spirit in regard to forbidden things.82

Spiritual pride manifests itself quite frequently
when spiritual gluttony or some other self-seeking is satisfied, when
things go as one wishes; then a man boasts of his perfection, judges
others severely, sets himself up as a master, while he is still only
a poor disciple. This spiritual pride, says St. John of the Cross,83
leads beginners to flee masters who do not approve of their spirit;
“they even end by bearing them rancor.” They seek a guide
favorable to their inclinations, desire to be on intimate terms with
him, confess their sins to him in such a way as not to lower
themselves in his esteem. As St. John of the Cross says: “They
go about palliating their sins, that they may not seem so bad: which
is excusing rather than accusing themselves. Sometimes they go to a
stranger to confess their sin, that their usual confessor may think
that they are not sinners, but good people. And so they always take
pleasure in telling him of their goodness.”84

This spiritual pride leads, as is evident, to a
certain pharisaical hypocrisy, which shows that the beginners, whom
St. John of the Cross is speaking of, are still very imperfect; they
are, therefore, beginners in the sense in which this word is
generally understood by spiritual authors.85
And yet it is of them that St. John of the Cross says here that they
need to undergo the passive purification of the senses, which
therefore marks clearly the entrance into the illuminative way of
proficients, according to the traditional meaning of these terms.

To the defects of spiritual gluttony, spiritual
sloth, and spiritual pride, are added many others: curiosity, which
decreases love of the truth; sufficiency, which leads us to
exaggerate our personal worth, to become irritated when it is not
recognized; jealousy and envy, which lead to disparagement,
intrigues, and unhappy conflicts, which more or less seriously injure
the general good. Likewise in the apostolate, the defect rather
frequent at this time is natural eagerness in self-seeking, in making
oneself a center, in drawing souls to oneself or to the group to
which one belongs instead of leading them to our Lord. Finally, let
trial, a rebuff, a disgrace come, and one is, in consequence,
inclined to discouragement, discontent, sulkiness, pusillanimity,
which seeks more or less to assume the external appearances of
humility. All these defects show the necessity of a profound
purification.

Several of these defects may, without doubt, be
corrected by exterior mortification and especially by interior
mortification which we should impose on ourselves; but such
mortification does not suffice to extirpate their roots, which
penetrate to the very center of our faculties.86
“The soul, however,” says St. John of the Cross, “cannot
be perfectly purified from these imperfections, any more than from
the others, until God shall have led it into the passive purgation of
the dark night, which I shall speak of immediately. But it is
expedient that the soul, so far as it can, should labor, on its own
part, to purify and perfect itself, that it may merit from God to be
taken under His divine care, and be healed from those imperfections
which of itself it cannot remedy. For, after all the efforts of the
soul, it cannot by any exertions of its own actively purify itself so
as to be in the slightest degree fit for the divine union of
perfection in the love of God, if God Himself does not take it into
His own hands and purify it in the fire, dark to the soul.”87

In other words, the cross sent by God to purify us
must complete the work of mortification which we impose on ourselves.
Consequently, as St. Luke relates: “He [Jesus] said to all: If
any man will come after Me, let him deny himself [this is the law of
mortification or abnegation], and take up his cross daily, and follow
Me”;88per crucem ad lucem. This road leads to the light of life, to
intimate union with God, the normal prelude of the life of heaven.

HOW THE PASSIVE
PURIFICATION OF THE SENSES IS PRODUCED

This state is manifested by three signs which St.
John of the Cross describes as follows:

The first
is this: when we find no comfort in the things of God, and none also
in created things. For when God brings the soul into the dark night
in order to wean it from sweetness and to purge the desire of sense,
He does not allow it to find sweetness or comfort anywhere. It is
then probable, in such a case, that this dryness is not the result of
sins or of imperfections recently committed; for if it were, we
should feel some inclination or desire for other things than those of
God. . . . But still, inasmuch as this absence of pleasure in the
things of heaven and of earth may proceed from bodily indisposition
or a melancholy temperament, which frequently causes dissatisfaction
with all things, the second test and condition become necessary.

The second
test and condition of this purgation are that the memory dwells
ordinarily upon God with a painful anxiety and carefulness, the soul
thinks it is not serving God, but going backwards, because it is no
longer conscious of any sweetness in the things of God. . . . The
true purgative aridity is accompanied in general by a painful
anxiety, because the soul thinks that it is not serving God. Though
this be occasionally increased by melancholy or other infirmity—so
it sometimes happens yet it is not for that reason without its
purgative effects on the desires, because the soul is deprived of all
sweetness, and its sole anxieties are referred to God. For when mere
bodily indisposition is the cause, all that it does is to produce
disgust and the ruin of bodily health, without the desire of serving
God which belongs to the purgative aridity. In this aridity, though
the sensual part of man be greatly depressed, weak and sluggish in
good works, by reason of the little satisfaction they furnish, the
spirit is, nevertheless, ready and strong.

The cause
of this dryness is that God is transferring to the spirit the goods
and energies of the senses, which, having no natural fitness for
them, become dry, parched up, and empty; for the sensual nature of
man is helpless in those things which belong to the spirit simply.
Thus the spirit having been tasted, the flesh becomes weak and
remiss; but the spirit, having received its proper nourishment,
becomes strong, more vigilant and careful than before, lest there
should be any negligence in serving God. At first it is not conscious
of any spiritual sweetness and delight, but rather of aridities and
distaste, because of the novelty of the change. The palate accustomed
to sensible sweetness looks for it still. And the spiritual palate is
not prepared and purified for so delicious a taste until it shall
have been for some time disposed for it in this arid and dark night.
. . .89

But when
these aridities arise in the purgative way of the sensual appetite
the spirit though at first without any sweetness, for the reasons I
have given, is conscious of strength and energy to act because of the
substantial nature of its interior food, which is the commencement of
contemplation, dim and dry to the senses. This contemplation is in
general secret, and unknown to him who is admitted into it, and with
the aridity and emptiness which it produces in the senses, it makes
the soul long for solitude and quiet, without the power of reflecting
on anything distinctly, or even desiring to do so.

Now, if
they who are in this state knew how to be quiet, . . . they would
have, in this tranquillity, a most delicious sense of this interior
food. This food is so delicate that, in general, it eludes our
perceptions if we make any special effort to feel it; it is like the
air which vanishes when we shut our hands to grasp it. For this is
God’s way of bringing the soul into this state; the road by
which He leads it is so different from the first, that if it will do
anything in its own strength, it will hinder rather than aid His
work. Therefore, at this time, all that the soul can do of itself
ends, as I have said, in disturbing the peace and the work of God in
the spirit amid the dryness of sense.90

The third
sign we have for ascertaining whether this dryness be the purgation
of sense, is inability to meditate and make reflections, and to
excite the imagination, as before, notwithstanding all the efforts we
may make; for God begins now to communicate Himself, no longer
through the channel of sense, as formerly, in consecutive
reflections, by which we arranged and divided our knowledge, but in
pure spirit, which admits not of successive reflections, and in the
act of pure contemplation (to which the special inspiration of the
Holy Ghost gives rise in us).91

In regard to this third sign, St. John of the Cross
points out that this inability to meditate in a reasoned or
discursive manner “does not arise out of any bodily ailment.
When it arises from this, the indisposition, which is always
changeable, having ceased, the powers of the soul recover their
former energies and find their previous satisfactions at once. It is
otherwise in the purgation of the appetite, for as soon as we enter
upon this, the inability to make our meditations continually grows.
It is true that this purgation at first is not continuous in some
persons.”92

Though this state is manifested by two negative
characteristics (sensible aridity and great difficulty in meditating
according to a reasoned manner), evidently the most important element
in it is the positive side, that is, initial infused contemplation
and the keen desire for God to which it gives rise in us. It must
even be admitted that then sensible aridity and the difficulty in
meditating come precisely from the fact that grace takes a new,
purely spiritual form, superior to the senses and to the discourse of
reason, which makes use of the imagination. Here the Lord seems to
take from the soul, for He deprives it of sensible consolation, but
in reality He bestows a precious gift, nascent contemplation and a
love that is more spirit­ual, pure, and strong. Only, we must
keep in mind the saying: “The roots of knowledge are bitter and
the fruits sweet”; the same must be said in a higher order of
the roots and fruits of contemplation.

THE CAUSE OF THIS STATE

The theological explanation of this state is to be
found in four causes. We already know its formal and material causes
from the fact that St. John of the Cross tells us that it is a
passive purification of the sensibility. Several authors insist on
its final cause or end, which is easily discovered, and do not give
sufficient attention to its efficient cause.

The passage just quoted from St. John of the Cross
indicates the efficient cause. It is, in fact, a special and
purifying action of God, from which comes, says the saint, a
beginning of infused contemplation. In this contemplation we have the
explanation of the keen desire for God experienced by the soul, since
man ardently desires only that of which he experimentally knows the
charm. This keen desire for God and for perfection is itself the
explanation of the fear of falling back (filial fear). Finally,
sensible aridity is explained by the fact that the special grace then
given is purely spiritual and not sensible; it is a higher form of
life. St. John’s text explains this state rationally.

On penetrating more deeply into the theological
explanation of this state, we observe that in it there is a special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost, whose influence then becomes more
manifest. Theology teaches that every just soul possesses the seven
gifts of the Holy Ghost, which enable it to receive His inspirations
with docility and promptness.93
Here, therefore, the influence of the gifts is quite manifest,
especially those gifts of knowledge, filial fear, and fortitude.

The gift of knowledge, in fact, explains the first
sign pointed out by St. John of the Cross: “No comfort in the
things of God and none also in created things.” The gift of
knowledge, according to St. Augustine94
and St. Thomas,95
makes us know experimentally the emptiness of created things, all
that is defectible and deficient in them and in ourselves. Knowledge
indeed differs from wisdom inasmuch as it knows things not by their
supreme cause, but by their proximate, defectible, and deficient
cause. For this reason, according to St. Augustine, the gift of
knowledge corresponds to the beatitude of tears. The tears of
contrition come actually from the knowledge of the gravity of sin and
the nothingness of creatures. The gift of knowledge reminds us of
what Ecclesiastes says: “Vanity of vanities, . . . and all
things are vanity,” except to love God and to serve Him.96
This thought is repeatedly expressed in The Imitation97
and in the works of great mystics like Ruysbroeck.98
Before St. John of the Cross, Ruysbroeck pointed out the relations of
the gift of knowledge to the passive purification of the senses, in
which the soul knows by experience the emptiness of created things
and is led thereby to a keen desire for God.99

In the passive purification of the senses which we
are speaking of, there is also a manifest influence of the gifts of
fear and fortitude, as the second sign given by St. John of the Cross
indicates: “The true purgative aridity is accompanied in
general by a painful anxiety because the soul thinks that it is not
serving God. . . . For when mere bodily indisposition is the cause,
all that it does is to produce disgust and the ruin of bodily health,
without the desire of serving God which belongs to the purgative
aridity. In this aridity, though the sensual part of man is greatly
depressed, weak and sluggish in good works, by reason of the little
satisfaction they furnish, the spirit is, nevertheless, ready and
strong.”100

The second sign manifests, therefore, an effect of
the gift of fear, of filial fear, not the fear of punishment but that
of sin. Filial fear evidently grows with the progress of charity,
whereas servile fear, or that of punishment, diminishes.101
By the special inspiration of this gift the soul resists the strong
temptations against chastity and patience which often accompany the
passive purification of the senses. The Christian, who then
experiences his indigence, repeats the words of the Psalmist: “Pierce
Thou my flesh with Thy fear: for I am afraid of Thy judgments.”102
According to St. Augustine, the gift of fear corresponds to the
beatitude of the poor,103
of those who do not pose as masters, but who begin to love seriously
the humility of the hidden life that they may become more like our
Lord. In this poverty they find true riches: “Theirs is the
kingdom of heaven.”

In the keen desire to serve God which St. John of the
Cross speaks of here, a desire that subsists in spite of aridity,
temptations, difficulties, there is, at the same time, a manifest
effect of the gift of fortitude, corresponding to the fourth
beatitude: “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after
justice: for they shall have their fill.”104
The ardent desire to serve God at no matter what cost is truly this
hunger, which the Lord arouses in us. He gives rise to it and He
satisfies it; as was said to Daniel: “I am come to show it to
thee, because thou art a man of desires.”105
The gift of fortitude comes here, in the midst of difficulties and
contradictions, to the assistance of the virtues of patience and
longanimity; without it spiritual enthusiasm would die away like
sensible enthusiasm. This is the time when man must give heed to what
The Imitation says about the holy way of the cross: “Follow
Jesus, and thou shalt go into life everlasting. He is gone before
thee, carrying His cross. . . . If thou carry the cross willingly, it
will carry thee and bring thee to thy desired end. . . . And
sometimes he gaineth such strength through affection to tribulation
and adversity, by his love of conformity to the cross of Christ, as
not to be willing to be without suffering and affliction. . . . This
is not man’s power but the grace of Christ, which doth and can
effect such great things in frail flesh, and that what it naturally
abhors and flies, even this, through fervor of spirit, it now
embraces and loves [i.e., to bear the cross].”106

Finally, the third sign which St. John of the Cross
speaks of, “the growing difficulty in meditating discursively,”
shows the influence of the gift of understanding, the source of
initial infused contemplation, above reasoning.107
In the same chapter of The Dark Night,108
the saint speaks in exact terms of this “beginning of obscure
and arid contemplation” by which God nourishes the soul while
purifying it and giving it strength to go beyond the figures, to
penetrate the meaning of the formulas of faith that it may reach the
superior simplicity which characterizes contemplation.109

St. Thomas also speaks clearly on this subject: “The
other cleanness of heart is a kind of complement to the sight of God;
such is the cleanness of the mind that is purged of phantasms and
errors, so as to receive the truths which are proposed to it about
God, no longer by way of corporeal phantasms, nor infected with
heretical misrepresentations; and this cleanness is the result of the
gift of understanding.”110
Thereby this gift preserves us from possible deviations and makes us
go beyond the letter of the Gospel to attain its spirit; it begins to
make us penetrate, beyond the formulas of faith, the depths of the
mysteries that they express. The formula is no longer a term but a
point of departure. This purifying influence of the gift of
understanding will be exercised especially in the passive
purification of the spirit, but even at this stage it is manifest.
Under the special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, the soul now makes
an act of penetrating faith, which is called an infused act, for it
cannot be produced without this special inspiration.111

Thus there begins to be realized what St. Thomas also
points out: “But on the part of the soul, before it arrives at
this uniformity (of contemplation, symbolized by the uniformity of
circular movement, without beginning or end), its twofold lack of
uniformity needs to be removed. First, that which arises from the
variety of external things . . . and from the discoursing of reason.
This is done by directing all the soul’s operations to the
simple contemplation of the intelligible truth,”112
a process which begins to be realized in the passive purification of
the senses. Here, for example, a theologian will see the entire tract
on predestination and that on grace reduced to this simple principle:
“Since God’s love is the cause of goodness in things, no
one thing would be better than another if God did not will greater
good for one than for another.”113

St. Augustine, in treating of the degrees of the life
of the soul,114
pointed out that the life of true virtue begins by a purification,
which he called “purificationis negotium . . . , opus tam
difficile mundationis animae.” Such is, we believe, according
to the great masters,115
the explanation of this state or period of transition, which is
manifested by the subtraction of sensible graces, but which is in
reality the beginning of infused contemplation, the threshold of the
mystical life, in which grace is given under a new form, more freed
from the senses, that it may spiritualize us, make us attain the
vivifying spirit under the letter of the Gospel, and cause us truly
to live by it.116

NOTE

To distinguish neurasthenia from the passive
purifications, we should note that the most frequent symptoms in
neurasthenics are the following: almost continual fatigue, even when
they have not worked, accompanied by a feeling of prostration, of
discouragement; habitual headaches (the sensation of wearing a
helmet, a leaden cap; dull pains at the nape of the neck or in the
spinal column); insomnia, to such an extent that the neurasthenic
wakes up more tired than when he went to bed; difficulty in
exercising the intellectual faculties and in maintaining attention;
impressionability (intense emotions for very slight causes), which
leads the sufferer to believe that he has illnesses that he does not
really have; excessive self-analysis even to minute details,
continual preoccupation not to become ill.117

Neurasthenics are, however, not imaginary invalids;
the powerlessness they experience is real, and it would be very
imprudent to urge them to disregard their fatigue and work to the
limit of their strength. What they lack is not will, but power.

The causes of neurasthenia may be organic like
infections, endocrine or liver troubles, pre-paralysis; but often the
causes are also psychical: intellectual overloading, moral worries,
painful emotions, which constitute too heavy a load for the nervous
system. Even in these last cases, where the cause of the disease is
mental, the illness itself affects the organism. For this reason
neurasthenics must absolutely be made to rest; and they must be
progressively led to perform easy tasks proportionate to their
strength, and be encouraged.

We should also note that psychoneuroses may be
associated with a developed intellectual life and a lofty moral life.
Consequently we see, as St. John of the Cross pointed out in speaking
of the three signs of the passive night of the senses, that this
night may exist simultaneously with melancholia, or neurasthenia as
it is called today. But we see also that the passive night is
distinguished from this state of nervous fatigue by the second sign
(the soul ordinarily keeps the memory of God with solicitude and
painful anxiety for fear it may be falling back), and by the third
sign (the quasi-impossibility to meditate, but the ability to keep a
simple and loving gaze on God, the beginning of infused
contemplation). The ardent desire for God and for perfection, which
is manifested by these signs, distinguishes notably this passive
purification from neurasthenia which may sometimes co-exist with it.

Chapter 5: Conduct to be Observed in the Night of the Senses

In The Dark Night, St. John of the Cross
treats of the conduct to be observed in the night of the senses.118
He gives there, first of all, rules for direction, then he speaks of
the trials which ordinarily accompany this state. We shall set forth
here the essential part of his teaching on this point. This teaching
may, moreover, be useful not only for those who are in this period of
obscurity and prolonged aridity, but also for those who observe that
in their interior life day and night alternate somewhat as they do in
nature. The author of The Imitation frequently points out this
alternation. As in nature it is good that night succeed day, so also
is it suitable in the life of the soul. Furthermore, one must know
how to conduct oneself in these two phases that differ so greatly;
especially is this knowledge necessary when the obscure phase is
prolonged, as it is in the period we are considering.

FOUR RULES OF DIRECTION
RELATIVE TO THIS STATE

The mystical doctor points out first of all in regard
to those who are in this period of transition: “If they meet
with no one who understands the matter, these persons fall away and
abandon the right road; or they become weak, or at least put
hindrances in the way of their further advancement, because of the
great efforts they make to proceed in their former way of meditation,
fatiguing their natural powers beyond measure.” At this time,
it is advisable for them to seek counsel from an enlightened director
because of the difficulties which arise in the interior life by
reason of the subtraction of sensible graces, the growing difficulty
in meditating, and also by reason of the concomitant temptations
against chastity and patience which the devil then awakens rather
frequently in order to turn the soul away from prayer.

In the second place, says St. John of the Cross: “It
behooves those who find themselves in this condition to take courage
and persevere in patience. Let them not afflict themselves but put
their confidence in God, who never forsakes those who seek Him with a
pure and upright heart. Neither will He withhold from them all that
is necessary for them on this road until He brings them to the clear
and pure light of love, which He will show them in that other dark
night of the spirit, if they shall merit an entrance into it.”
Consequently, in this aridity and powerlessness one must not become
discouraged or abandon prayer as if it were useless. On the contrary,
it becomes much more fruitful if the soul perseveres in humility,
abnegation, and trust in God. Prolonged sensible aridity and growing
inability to meditate are the sign of a new, higher life. Instead of
grieving over this condition, a learned and experienced director
rejoices; it is the generous entrance into “the narrow way”
which ascends as it broadens, and which will become increasingly
wide, immense as God Himself to whom it leads. At this stage the soul
is under the happy necessity of not being content with weak acts of
faith, hope, and love. Imperfect acts (actus remissi) of these
virtues no longer suffice here; more lofty and more meritorious acts
are necessary. According to St. Thomas, it is characteristic of these
acts to obtain immediately the increase of grace and charity which
they merit.119

The spiritual man who has reached this stage is like
a man who in climbing a mountain comes to a difficult spot where, to
make progress, he must have a keener desire for the goal to be
attained. We are here at the aurora of the illuminative life; it
richly deserves that we show generosity in our passage through the
dark night which precedes it. Here it is a question of being purified
from the remains of the seven capital sins that stain the spiritual
life; if one is not purified from them on earth while meriting, one
must be cleansed in purgatory without meriting.

The passive purification which we are speaking of is
in the normal way of sanctity, which may be defined as union with God
and sufficient purity to enter heaven immediately. This degree of
purity is certainly in the normal way of heaven, whether a person
obtains it on earth, or only at the end of his purgatory. Purgatory,
which is a penalty, presupposes sins that could have been avoided.
Therefore the soul should trust in God while this painful work of
purification is being accomplished.

In the third place, as St. John of the Cross points
out here,120
when persons can no longer meditate discursively: “All they
have to do is to keep their soul free, . . . contenting themselves
simply with directing their attention lovingly and calmly toward
God.” To wish to return at any cost to discursive meditation,
would be to wish to run counter to the current of grace instead of
following it, and to give ourselves great trouble without profit. It
would be like running toward the spring of living water when we have
already reached its brim; continuing to run, we withdraw from it. It
would be like continuing to spell when we already know how to read
several words at a glance. It would be to fall back instead of
allowing ourselves to be drawn, to be lifted up by God. However, if
the difficulty in meditating does not increase and makes itself felt
only from time to time, it is well to return to simplified, affective
meditation whenever possible: for example, to the very slow
meditation of the Our Father.

St. John gives a fourth rule of direction for those
who, having reached this state of prolonged aridity, wish, not to
return to reasoned meditation, but to feel some consolation. St. John
of the Cross says on this subject: “All they have to do is to
keep their soul free, . . . and all this without anxiety or effort,
or immoderate desire to feel and taste His presence. For all such
efforts disquiet the soul, and distract it from the peaceful quiet
and sweet tranquillity of contemplation to which they are now
admitted.121
. . . If they were now to exert their interior faculties, they would
simply hinder and ruin the good which, in that repose, God is working
in the soul; for if a man while sitting for his portrait cannot be
still, but moves about, the painter will never depict his face, and
even the work already done will be spoiled. . . . The more it strives
to find help in affections and knowledge, the more will it feel the
deficiency which cannot now be supplied in that way.”122
In other words, natural activity exercising itself counter to the
gifts of the Holy Ghost, through self-seeking opposes an obstacle to
their most delicate inspirations. In prayer, we should not seek to
feel the gift of God, but should receive it with docility and
disinterestedness in the obscurity of faith. Spiritual joy will be
added later on to the act of contemplation and love of God; but it is
not joy that should be sought, it is God Himself, who is greatly
superior to His gifts.

If the soul that has reached this period of
transition is faithful to what has been said, then will be realized
what St. John of the Cross affirms: “By not hindering the
operation of infused contemplation, to which God is now admitting it,
the soul is refreshed in peaceful abundance, and set on fire with the
spirit of love, which this con­templation, dim and secret,
induces and establishes within it.”123

As the mystical doctor says: “The soul should
content itself simply with directing its attention lovingly and
calmly toward God,” with the general knowledge of His infinite
goodness, as when after months of absence, a loving son again meets
his good mother who has been expecting him. He does not analyze his
sentiments and his mother’s as a psychologist would; he is
content with an affectionate, tranquil, and profound gaze which in
its simplicity is far more penetrating than all psychological
analyses.

This beginning of infused contemplation united to
love is already the eminent exercise of the theological virtues and
of the gifts of the Holy Ghost which accompany them. In it there is
an infused act of penetrating faith;124
therein the soul discovers increasingly the spirit of the Gospel, the
spirit which vivifies the letter. Thus are verified Christ’s
words: “The Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will
send in My name, He will teach you all things and bring all things to
your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you.”125
St. John also wrote to the faithful to whom he directed his first
epistle: “And as for you, let the unction, which you have
received from Him, abide in you.126
And you have no need that any man teach you; . . . His unction
teacheth you of all things.”127
In the silence of prayer, the soul receives here the profound meaning
of what it has often read and meditated on in the Gospel: for
example, the intrinsic meaning of the evangelical beatitudes: blessed
are the poor, the meek, those who weep for their sins, those who
hunger and thirst for justice, the merciful, the pure of heart, the
peacemakers, those who suffer persecution for justice, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven.

In this way, as a rule, begins infused prayer, the
spiritual elevation of the soul toward God, above the senses, the
imagination, and reasoning; it is adoration “in spirit and in
truth,” which goes beyond the formulas of faith to penetrate
the mysteries which they express and to live by them. The formulas
are no longer a term, but a point of departure.

Nevertheless we should remember here what St. John of
the Cross says in The Ascent of Mount Carmel: “The beginning
contemplative is not yet so far removed from discursive meditation
that he cannot return occasionally to its practice,”128
when he is no longer under the special influence of the Holy Ghost,
which facilitates recollection. St. Teresa, in her Life (chap. 14),
also speaks of the necessity at the beginning of the prayer of quiet
of having recourse to a simplified meditation, symbolized by the
hydraulic machine called a noria. This passage from St.
Teresa’s life corresponds to what St. John of the Cross has
just said about the work of the understanding, which prepares the
soul to receive a more profound recollection from God. Thus it is
fitting at the beginning of prayer to meditate slowly on the
petitions of the Our Father, or to converse in a childlike manner
with Mary Mediatrix that she may lead us to close union with her Son.
It is well for us to recall how He Himself gave His life for us and
how He does not cease to offer Himself for us in the Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass. If we follow this way faithfully, we shall receive, at
least from time to time, an interior light that will give us the
profound meaning of the Passion, and also of the infinite riches
contained in the Holy Eucharist. Thus our interior life will grow
more simple while becoming more lofty, which is essential if it is to
radiate and to bear fruit.

We may sum up the conduct to be observed in the
passive purification of the senses, called also the night of the
senses, as follows: docility to the director, trust in God, a simple
and loving gaze on Him, abstention from seeking to feel consolation.
To complete this chapter, we must also speak of the trials which
frequently accompany this period of transition.

TRIALS WHICH ORDINARILY
ACCOMPANY THE NIGHT OF THE SENSES

To this painful purification in which, under the
influence of the gift of knowledge, we experience the emptiness of
created things, are customarily added temptations against chastity
and patience. These temptations are permitted by God to provoke a
strong reaction of these virtues, which have their seat in the
sensible appetites. This reaction should strengthen these virtues,
root them more deeply, and thereby purify more profoundly the
sensibility in which they are located, and subject it increasingly to
right reason illumined by faith. For a like reason, there will be in
the night of the spirit temptations of the same kind against the
virtues which are in the highest part of the soul, especially against
the theological virtues.

These concomitant trials have an attenuated form in
many souls; in others they are more accentuated and then they
announce that God wishes to lead these souls to the full perfection
of Christian life if they are faithful.129

The struggle against the temptations of which we are
speaking necessitates energetic acts of the virtues of chastity and
patience; as a result these virtues then take deeper root in the
sensibility that has been tilled and upturned. They become in it like
very fertile seeds of a higher life. The acquired moral virtues cause
the direction of right reason to descend, in fact, into the
sensibility, and the infused moral virtues cause the divine life of
grace to penetrate into it. Thus conceived, this struggle against
temptation has a great and beautiful character. Without it we would
often be content with a lesser effort, with weak, less intense,
virtuous acts, actus remissi, as theologians call them, that
is, acts inferior to the degree of virtue that we possess. Having
three talents, we act as if we had only two. These weak virtuous
acts, as St. Thomas points out,130
do not immediately obtain the increase of charity which they merit,
whereas intense or perfect acts obtain it immediately.

Temptation places us in the necessity of producing
these very meritorious acts, occasionally heroic, which root the
acquired virtues and obtain immediately for us a proportionate
increase of the infused virtues. For this reason, the angel Raphael
said to Tobias: “Because thou wast acceptable to God, it was
necessary that temptation should prove thee.”131
St. Paul also says: “God is faithful, who will not suffer you
to be tempted above that which you are able; but will make also with
temptation issue, that you may be able to bear it.”132
Isaias speaks in like manner: “It is He that giveth strength to
the weary, and increaseth force and might to them that are not. . . .
But they that hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall
take wings as eagles.”133

Temptation reveals to us our misery and our need of
the grace of God: “What doth he know, that hath not been
tried?”134
Tempta­tion obliges us to pray, to beg God to come to our aid, to
place our confidence in Him and not in ourselves. Because of this
trust in God which the man who is tried should have, St. Paul writes:
“For when I am weak, then am I powerfuL”135
The apostle St. James also says: “My brethren, count it all joy
when you shall fall into divers temptations; knowing that the trying
of your faith worketh patience. And patience hath a perfect work;
that you may be perfect.”136

To these temptations against chastity and patience is
also added at times in this period of the interior life the loss of
certain temporal goods, of fortune, honors, friendships on which we
dwelt too much. God comes at this time to ask us to give Him the
lively affection which we have not thought of giving to Him.
Sometimes He also permits illnesses, that we may learn to suffer, and
also that we may be reminded that of ourselves we can do nothing and
that we need the divine favors for the life of the body and that of
the soul.

THE EFFECTS OF THE
PASSIVE PURIFICATION OF THE SENSES

If we bear these trials well, they produce precious
effects in us. It is said that “patience produces roses.”
Among the effects of the passive purification of the senses, must be
numbered a profound and experimental knowledge of God and self.

St. John of the Cross points out: “These
aridities and the emptiness of the faculties as to their former
abounding, and the difficulty which good works present, bring the
soul to a knowledge of its own vileness and misery.”137

This knowledge is the effect of nascent infused
contemplation, which shows that infused contemplation is in the
normal way of sanctity. St. John of the Cross says: “The soul
possesses and retains more truly that excellent and necessary virtue
of self-knowledge, counting itself for nothing, and having no
satisfaction in itself, because it sees that of itself it does and
can do nothing. This diminished satisfaction with self, and the
affliction it feels because it thinks that it is not serving God, God
esteems more highly than all its former delights and all its good
works.”138

With this knowledge of its indigence, its poverty,
the soul comprehends better the majesty of God, His infinite goodness
toward us, the value also of Christ’s merits, of His precious
blood, the infinite value of the Mass, and the value of Communion.
“God enlightens the soul, making it see not only its own misery
and meanness, . . . but also His grandeur and majesty.”139

St. Teresa speaks in like manner: “For
instance, they read that we must not be troubled when men speak ill
of us, that we are to be then more pleased than when they speak well
of us, . . . with many other things of the same kind. The disposition
to practice this must be, in my opinion, the gift of God, for it
seems to me a supernatural good.”140
“People may desire honors or possessions in monasteries as well
as outside them (yet the sin is greater as the temptation is less),
but such souls, although they may have spent years in prayer, or
rather in speculations (for perfect prayer eventually destroys
these vices), will never make great progress nor enjoy the real
fruit of prayer.”141

St. Catherine of Siena, too, taught the same
doctrine: that the knowledge of God and that of our indigence are
like the highest and the lowest points of a circle which could grow
forever.142
This infused knowledge of our misery is the source of true humility
of heart, of the humility which leads one to desire to be nothing
that God may be all,amare nesciri et pro nihilo reputari.
Infused knowledge of the infinite goodness of God gives birth in us
to a much more lively charity, a more generous and disinterested love
of God and of souls in Him, a greater confidence in prayer.

As St. John of the Cross says: “The love of God
is practiced, because the soul is no longer attracted by sweetness
and consolation, but by God only. . . . In the midst of these
aridities and hardships, God communicates to the soul, when it least
expects it, spiritual sweetness, most pure love, and spiritual
knowledge of the most exalted kind, of greater worth and profit than
any of which it had previous experience, though at first the soul may
not think so, for the spiritual influence now communicated is most
delicate and imperceptible by sense.”143

The soul travels here in a spiritual light and shade;
it rises above the inferior obscurity which comes from matter, error,
and sin; it enters the higher obscurity which comes from a light that
is too great for our weak eyes. It is the obscurity of the divine
life, the light of which is inaccessible to the senses and to natural
reason. But between these two obscurities, the lower and the higher,
there is a ray of illumination from the Holy Ghost; it is the
illuminative life which truly begins. Then are realized the Savior’s
words: “He that followeth Me walketh not in darkness, but shall
have the light of life,”144
and he already has it.

Under this light, affective charity becomes effective
and generous. Through the spirit of sacrifice it more and more takes
first place in the soul; it establishes peace in us and gives it to
others. Such are the principal effects of the passive purification of
the senses, which subjects our sensibility to the spirit and
spiritualizes that sensibility. Thus this purification appears in the
normal way of sanctity. Later the passive purification of the spirit
will have as its purpose to supernaturalize our spirit, to subject it
fully to God in view of perfect divine union, which is the normal
prelude to that of eternity. These are the superior laws of the life
of grace, or of its full development, in its relation to the two
parts of the soul. The senses should, in the end, be fully subjected
to the spirit, and the spirit to God.

Finally, it should be pointed out that the passive
purification of the senses, even for those who enter it, is more or
less manifest and also more or less well borne. St. John of the Cross
points out this fact when he speaks of those who show less
generosity: “The night of aridities is not continuous with
them, they are sometimes in it, and sometimes not; they are at one
time unable to meditate, and at another able as before. . . . These
persons are never wholly weaned from the breasts of meditations and
reflections, but only, as I have said, at intervals and at certain
seasons.”145
In The Living Flame, the mystical doctor, explaining why this
is so, says: “Because these souls flee purifying suffering, God
does not continue to purify them; they wish to be perfect without
allowing themselves to be led by the way of trial which forms the
perfect.”146

Such is the more or less generous transition to a
form of higher life. We see the logical and vital succession of
phases through which the soul should pass to reach the perfect purity
that would permit it to enter heaven immediately. It is not a
mechanical juxtaposition of successive states: it is the organic
development of life. In his discussion of this point St. John of the
Cross caused spiritual theology to advance notably, by showing the
necessity and the intimate nature of these purifications, which are
an anticipated purgatory in which one merits and advances, whereas in
that after death, one no longer merits. May the Lord grant us the
grace thus to suffer our purgatory before death rather than after our
last sigh. In the evening of life we shall be judged on the purity of
our love of God and of souls in God.

Chapter 6: The Spiritual Age of Proficients: Principal
Characteristics

Since we have discussed the difficult period called
the night of the senses, which, according to St. John of the Cross,
marks the entrance into the illuminative way of proficients, we
should now point out the principal traits of the spiritual character
of proficients, the characteristics of this age of the interior
life.147

The mentality of proficients should be described by
insisting on their knowledge and love of God, and by noting the
differences between this spiritual age and the preceding one, just as
one remarks those of adolescence and childhood. The adolescent is not
only a grown-up child, but he has also a new mentality; he sees
things in a less imaginative, more rational manner; he has different
preoccupations, just as the child is not an adolescent in miniature.
From the spiritual point of view there is something similar in
respect to the different ages of the interior life.

THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD IN
PROFICIENTS

In the preceding period, the beginner scarcely knew
God except in the mirror of sensible things, whether in those of
nature, or in those mentioned in the parables of the Gospel, or in
the exterior acts of worship; and he knew himself only in a very
superficial manner.

The proficient obtained a deeper self-knowledge while
passing through the period of prolonged aridity which marks the
second conversion. With this knowledge of his poverty, of his
spiritual indigence, there grows within him by contrast a
quasi-experimental knowledge of God, not only in the mirror of the
sensible things of nature, of the parables, of exterior worship, but
in the spiritual mirror of the mysteries of salvation with which he
familiarizes himself. These mysteries, which are those of the
incarnation of the Word, of the redemption, of eternal life, the
rosary daily places before our eyes by recalling to us the Savior’s
childhood, His sorrowful passion, His resurrection and ascension. If
the proficient is faithful, he goes beyond the sensible aspect of
these mysteries, he attains all that is spiritual in them, the
infinite value of the merits of Christ; then the rosary is no longer
the mechanical recitation of the Hail Mary, but a living thing, a
school of contemplation. The joyful mysteries bring us the good news
of the annunciation and the nativity of our Savior, which constitute
true, enduring, and deep joys far above the pleasures of the world
and the satisfactions of pride. Likewise, in the midst of our
sufferings, which are often without reason, at times overwhelming,
almost always badly borne, the sorrowful mysteries repeat to us that
our sins should be the object of our grief. They make us desire to
know them better, to experience a sincere sorrow for them, and thus
we begin to comprehend the profound meaning and the infinite value of
Christ’s passion and its effects in our lives. Finally, in the
midst of the instability and uncertainties of this life, the glorious
mysteries recall to us the immutability and the perfect happiness of
eternal life, which is the goal of our journey.

The proficient who would thus live a little better
each day by the spirit of the rosary, would reach the contemplation
of the mystery of Christ, a certain penetrating understanding of the
life of the mystical body, or of the Church militant, suffering, and
triumphant. Under the continual direction of Jesus and of Mary
Mediatrix, he would enter increasingly into the mystery of the
communion of saints. If he should listen daily to this secret
teaching in the depth of his heart, this prayer would kindle in him
the desire of heaven, of the glory of God, and the salvation of
souls; it would give him a love of the cross and strength to carry
it, and from time to time a foretaste of heaven, a certain savor of
eternal life. As a traveler toward eternity (viator), he would
occasionally enjoy it in hope and would rest on the heart of Him who
is the way, the truth, and the life.

The proficient who has such knowledge of God no
longer knows Him only in the sensible mirror of the starry sky or of
the parables, but in the spiritual mirror of the great mysteries of
the Incarnation, the redemption, and eternal life which is promised
to us. He thus grows increasingly familiar with these mysteries of
faith, he penetrates them a little, tastes them, sees their
application to his daily life. According to the terminology of
Dionysius, which is preserved by St. Thomas,148
the soul rises thus by a spiral movement from the mysteries of
Christ’s childhood to those of His passion, resurrection,
ascension, and glory, and in them it contemplates the radiation of
the sovereign goodness of God, who thus communicates Himself
admirably to us. Goodness is essentially diffusive, and that of God
diffuses itself on us by the redeeming Incarnation and by the
revelation of eternal life already begun, in a sense, in the life of
grace.149

In this more or less frequent contemplation, the
proficients or advanced receive, in the measure of their fidelity and
generosity, the light of the gift of understanding, which renders
their faith more penetrating and which makes them glimpse the lofty
and simple beauty of these mysteries, a beauty accessible to all
those who are truly humble and pure of heart.

Consequently this period of the interior life merits
the name of illuminative way. In the preceding period, the Lord
conquered our sensibility by certain graces, to which the name
sensible is given because of the sensible consolation they bring.
Then the soul, which had become too attached to these sensible
consolations, had to be weaned from them that it might receive a more
spiritual and substantial food.

Now God conquers our intellect; He enlightens it as
He alone can; He renders this superior faculty increasingly docile to
His inspirations that it may grasp divine truth. He subjects our
intellect to Himself in this way while vivifying it. He gives it
lights that are often scarcely perceived, but that make us understand
ever better the spirit of the Gospel. He lifts us up above the
excessive preoccupations and the complications of a learning that is
too human. He makes us aspire to the superior simplicity of the
loving gaze which rests in the truth that makes man free. He makes us
understand the meaning of these words: “If you continue in My
word, you shall be My disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth,
and the truth shall make you free.”150
This word will deliver you from the prejudices of the world, from its
vain complications, its lies, the short­sightedness of
unconscious pride, and from that of covetousness. Divine truth will
give itself profoundly to you and will also dispel the false luster
of all that can seduce you. It will free you from what Scripture
calls “the bewitching of vanity,”151
from the vertigo of passion which blinds you to the true imperishable
goods.

In all this there is a knowledge of God and of self
notably different from that drawn from books simply by reading. We
begin to know in a truly living manner the Gospel, the Eucharist,
Jesus Christ, who does not cease to intercede for us and who gives us
always new graces to incorporate us in Him, in His mystical body for
eternity. The life of the Church appears in its grandeur; we think of
the spiritual summits of the Church in our day, which must number
very holy souls as it did in the past and as it will in the future.
Such is the work of the Holy Ghost in men’s hearts.

Books alone cannot give this experimental knowledge.
A treatise on the Eucharist will show at some length, by the analysis
of scriptural texts, that this sacrament was instituted by Christ; it
will defend speculatively the Real Presence and transubstantiation
against ancient and modern errors; it will compare the different
explanations which theologians give of the Sacrifice of the Mass, and
will enumerate the fruits of Communion. These books, which are
indispensable for the training of the priest, end in precise
formulas. These formulas, however, should not be an end for us; for
the interior soul they should be a point of departure. To live with a
holy realism by the mystery itself, the soul should go beyond them.

By faith in the Eucharist, the interior soul already
holds the truths that it needs to know; it is useless for such a soul
to embarrass itself with discussions on the history of this dogma, on
transubstantiation or the Eucharistic accidents; it needs to live by
the truths of faith and of the liturgy, as Book IV of The
Imitation points out. To live in this way, the soul must receive
the inspirations of the Holy Ghost with docility. Not in vain are the
seven gifts given to all the just; they are given to perfect the
virtues. Thus the gift of understanding should make all the just who
are faithful to its inspirations penetrate the meaning and import of
the formulas of faith; simple souls who are clean of heart really see
this import much better than theologians who are too satisfied with
their acquired knowledge. Mirabilis Deus in sanctis suis.

The contemplation of divine things may be greatly
hindered by self-sufficiency which leads a man to think he already
knows the interior life, when, as a matter of fact, he still has much
to learn. The study of books will never replace prayer; for this
reason the great doctors of the Church have declared that they
learned more in prayer at the foot of the crucifix or near the
tabernacle than in the most learned works. Books give the letter and
explain it; intimate prayer obtains the spirit which vivifies, the
interior light which sometimes illuminates in an instant principles
often repeated, but whose universal radiation had not been grasped.
Many things in Christian life are illuminated, for example, in the
light of St. Paul’s words: “What hast thou that thou hast
not received?”152
This principle is the basis of humility, gratitude, and true love of
God, that we may respond to God’s love for us. In the same way
we then increasingly understand the profound meaning of these words:
God is the Author of being, of life, the Author of salvation, of
grace, of final perseverance.

Such is, though very imperfectly expressed, the
knowledge of God which proficients need and which is found in the
illuminative way. This period, in which the soul begins to
contemplate God in the spiritual mirror of the mysteries of
salvation, already surpasses the ascetical life; it is a beginning of
the mystical life. A denial of this fact would be a failure to
recognize the grace of God. It would likewise be a failure to
recognize it if one should deny the mystical character of The
Imitationin which all interior souls may find their nourishment.
This mystical character is a sign that the infused contemplation of
the mysteries, which is discussed in this book, is in the normal way
of sanctity.

THE LOVE OF GOD AND OF
SOULS IN PROFICIENTS

What is the normal effect of the interior lights
received on the mysteries of the life and death of our Savior, on
that of eternal life which is promised us? These lights lead the soul
to love God, no longer as in the preceding period, only by fleeing
mortal sin and deliberate venial sin, but by imitating the virtues of
Christ, His humility, meekness, patience, by observing not only the
precepts necessary for all, but the evangelical counsels of poverty,
chastity, obedience, or at least the spirit of these counsels, and by
avoiding imperfections.

Then with a greater abundance of interior light, the
faithful soul will receive, at least occasionally, keen desires for
the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Then that hunger and
thirst after the justice of God which Christ speaks of in the
beatitudes will grow. The soul will see the truth of His words: “If
any man thirst, let him come to Me, and drink. . . . Out of his belly
shall flow rivers of living water.” The soul will then receive,
at least for a time, a greater facility for prayer. Not infrequently
there is at this stage the infused prayer of quiet in which the will
is captivated for a very short time by the attraction of God.153
Persons dedicated to the apostolate have also in this period a
greater facility to act in the service of God, to teach, direct, and
organize works.

In such a life the soul loves God, no longer only
“with its whole heart” in the midst of sensible
consolations, but “with all its soul,” with all its
activities, not yet however “with all its strength,” as
will happen in the night of the spirit, nor as yet “with all
its mind,” for the soul is not yet established in this superior
region. That it may be established there, the passive purification of
the higher part of the soul will be needed, a purification that
brings about the disappearance of all the spiritual or intellectual
pride which still mingles in the facility for prayer and action,
which we have just mentioned. The soul has still a long road to
travel, like Elias who had to walk forty days and forty nights even
to Mt. Horeb; but the soul grows, its virtues develop and become
solid virtues, the expression of a love of God and souls, which is
not only affective, but effective or efficacious.

We shall now discuss these Christian virtues, their
relation especially to the love of God, as do the apostle St. John,
St. Paul, and all spiritual writers after them. For this reason we
shall insist on the moral virtues that have a closer relation to the
theological virtues: those of humility, meekness, and patience; those
that correspond to the counsels of poverty, chastity, obedience; also
those pointed out by Christ when He speaks of the necessity of
uniting the prudence of the serpent to the simplicity of the dove, or
to perfect sincerity. We shall thus be led to speak of what the
progress of the theological virtues and of the gifts of the Holy
Ghost should be in the illuminative way under the direction of the
interior Master. Thus we follow an ascending way toward union with
God.154

Chapter 7: The Spiritual Edifice in Proficients

To describe what the progress of the Christian
virtues should be in the illuminative way, we must recall the
profound meaning of the traditional symbolism in the figure of the
spiritual edifice. In this figure we find many of the teachings of
Christ and St. Paul, such as St. Augustine and St. Thomas understood
them in their works where they speak of the subordination of the
virtues and of their connection with the seven gifts of the Holy
Ghost.

Christ is the first to tell us, at the end of the
Sermon on the Mount, that we must build our spiritual edifice not on
sand, but on a rock, and St. Paul adds that the rock is Christ
Himself on whom every­thing must rest.

To build this temple we must, therefore, dig the
foundation until we find the rock. According to St. Augustine, the
excavation symbolizes humility, which is, says St. Thomas, a
fundamental virtue, inasmuch as it removes pride, the source of every
sin. If the soul is empty of self, it will be filled with God; if it
does not seek itself, it will seek God in everything. To build this
temple we must, therefore, not scratch the soil, but dig very deep;
and if we allow the Lord to work, He Himself will dig by making us
profit by the humiliations He sends us.

As the illustration shows, from humility, the base of
this excavation resting on Christ the foundation rock, rises the
first column of the edifice, the pillar of faith, as St. Paul calls
it. Faith is called a fundamental virtue, not only like humility in
that it removes an obstacle, but in that all the other infused
virtues rest positively on it.155
Opposite the pillar of faith is that of hope, which makes us desire
God, eternal life, relying on the divine help for its attainment.

These two pillars support the cupola of charity, the
highest of the virtues. The part of the cupola which rises toward
heaven symbolizes charity toward God, whereas that which slopes
toward the earth is a figure of fraternal charity, which makes us
love our neighbor for God because he is a child of God or called to
become one. The cupola is surmounted by the cross to remind us that
our love ascends toward God only through Christ and the merits of His
passion.

St. Augustine, speaking of the beatitudes in his
commentary on the Sermon on the Mount, and St. Thomas tell us that to
each of the three theological virtues corresponds a gift of the Holy
Ghost; these three gifts are symbolized by three lamps. From the
pillar of faith is suspended the lamp of the gift of understanding,
which renders faith penetrating. By faith we adhere to the word of
God; by the special inspiration of the gift of understanding we
penetrate it, as for example, when assailed by temptation, we
comprehend that God is truly our last end, the one thing necessary,
and that we must remain faithful to Him.

From the pillar of hope is suspended the lamp of the
gift of knowledge, which, according to St. Augustine and St. Thomas,
makes us know things, not by their supreme cause as wisdom does, but
by their proximate, defectible, and often deficient cause. For this
reason, according to these doctors, the gift of knowledge shows us
the emptiness of earthly things and the vanity of human helps in
attaining a divine end. In this sense, the gift, which perfects
faith, also perfects hope and leads us to aspire more strongly toward
eternal life and to rely on the help of God, the formal motive of
hope, to attain it.156

From the cupola symbolizing charity is suspended
another lamp, the gift of wisdom, which illuminates the whole
interior of the spiritual edifice and makes us see all things as
coming from God, supreme Cause and last End, from His love or at
least by His permission for a greater good which we shall some day
see and which from time to time becomes visible here on earth. In
this spiritual temple, says St. Paul, dwells the Holy Ghost and with
Him the Father and the Son. They are there as in a mansion, where
They may be and are from time to time quasi-experientally known and
loved.

However, to enter this spiritual edifice there must
be a door. According to tradition, in particular the teaching of St.
Gregory the Great, often quoted by St. Thomas, the four hinges of
this two­leafed door symbolize the four cardinal virtues of
prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. Their name “cardinal”
comes from the Latin cardines, meaning hinges. This meaning is
preserved in the current expression, “That man is unhinged,”
when irritation makes a man fail in these four virtues. Without them
man is outside the spiritual temple in the uncultivated region
ravaged by the evil weeds of egoism and inordinate inclinations.157
The two upper hinges on the temple door symbolize prudence and
justice, which are in the higher part of the soul, and the two lower
hinges are figures of fortitude and temperance, which have their seat
in the sensible appetites, common alike to man and animal.

To each of these four hinges is fastened a triple
piece of ironwork, symbolizing the principal virtues annexed to each
of the cardinal virtues. Thus, to prudence is attached foresight (a
reflection of divine Providence), circumspection attentive to the
circumstances in the midst of which we must act, and steadfastness or
constancy, that we may not because of difficulties abandon good
decisions and resolutions made after mature reflection in the
presence of God. Inconstancy, says St. Thomas, is a form of
imprudence.158

To the virtue of justice are also attached several
virtues. Those which relate to God as forms of justice toward Him
are: religion, which renders to Him the worship due Him; penance,
which offers Him reparation for the offenses committed against Him;
obedience, which makes man obey the divine commandments or the orders
of the spiritual or temporal representatives of God.

The virtue of fortitude makes us keep to the right
road in the presence of great dangers instead of yielding to fear; it
manifests Itself in the soldier who dies for his country and in the
martyr who dies for the faith. To fortitude several virtues are also
attached: notably, patience that we may endure daily vexations
without weakening; magnanimity which tends to great things to be
accomplished without becoming discouraged in the face of
difficulties; longanimity which makes us bear over a long period of
time incessant contradictions that sometimes are renewed daily for
many years.

Lastly, to the virtue of temperance, which moderates
the inordinate impulses of our sensible appetites, are attached
chastity, virginity, meekness which moderates and represses
irritation or anger, and evangelical poverty which makes us use the
things of the world as though not using them, without becoming
attached to them.

According to St. Augustine and St. Thomas, to each of
these cardinal virtues corresponds a gift of the Holy Ghost,
symbolized by so many precious stones which ornament the door; portae
nitent margaritis, as we read in the hymn for the feast of the
dedication of a church.

To prudence corresponds manifestly the gift of
counsel, which enlightens us when even infused prudence would remain
uncertain, for example, as to how to answer an indiscreet question
without telling a lie. To justice, which in regard to God is called
the virtue of religion, corresponds the gift of piety, which comes to
our help in prolonged aridities by inspiring in us a filial affection
for God. To the virtue of fortitude corresponds the gift of
fortitude, so manifest in the martyrs. To the virtue of temperance,
and especially of chastity, corresponds the gift of filial fear,
which enables us to surmount the temptations of the flesh, according
to the words of the Psalmist: “Pierce Thou my flesh with Thy
fear.”

Thus the picture of the spiritual edifice condenses
the teaching of the Gospel, the writings of St. Paul and of the great
doctors on the subordination of the virtues and their connection with
the gifts of the Holy Ghost.

This structure may appear somewhat complicated when
insistence is placed on the virtues attached to the cardinal virtues;
but the superior simplicity of the things of God stands out if the
following profound statement is considered carefully: When in a soul
or a community the foundation of the edifice and its summit are what
they ought to be, in other words, when there is profound humility and
true fraternal charity, the great sign of the progress of the love of
God, then everything goes well. Why is this? Because God then
supplies by His gifts for what may be lacking in acquired prudence or
natural energy; and He constantly reminds souls of their duties,
giving them His grace to accomplish them. “God . . . giveth
grace to the humble,” and He never fails those who understand
the precept of love: “Love one another as I have loved you; by
this shall all men know that you are My disciples.”

Chapter 8: Prudence and the Interior Life

“Be
ye therefore wise as serpents and simple as doves.”Matt.
10: 16

We shall discuss the moral virtues in the service of
charity and in their relation to the interior life, showing how they
ought to grow in the illuminative way and what their true place is in
the spiritual edifice.

Whereas the theological virtues are concerned with
the last end and lead us to believe in God, to hope in Him, to love
Him above all, the moral virtues have to do with the means to be
employed in order to obtain the last end. Among them we distinguish
four, called the cardinal virtues, because they are, as we have seen,
like the four hinges (cardines) of the door which gives access
to the temple of the interior life. The two principal walls of this
temple symbolize faith and hope, the dome is the symbol of charity,
and the foundation is humility. The four cardinal virtues, to which
are attached the other moral virtues, are, as moralists, even those
of pagan antiquity, commonly teach: prudence, which directs the
others; justice, which renders to each man his due; fortitude or
courage, which keeps us from letting ourselves be cast down in an
unreasonable manner in the face of danger; temperance, which causes
the light of reason to descend into our sensibility especially under
the forms of sobriety and of chastity. Other moral virtues, as we
have said, such as patience and meekness, are manifestly attached to
the cardinal virtues and are called connected virtues.

To understand clearly the teaching of St. Thomas on
the most important of these virtues, we should recall that he admits
a difference not only of degree, but of nature, in other words, a
specific difference between the acquired moral virtues which were
described by the pagan philosophers, and the infused moral virtues,
which are received in baptism and grow in us with charity. It is of
these virtues that the Gospel speaks.159

The difference separating these two orders of moral
virtues is most profound; it is that which distinguishes the natural,
or rational, order from that of grace. Here we have at the same time
a different formal object, motive, and end.

The acquired moral virtues, which were well described
by Aristotle, establish the rectitude of right reason in the will and
sensibility. Under the direction of acquired prudence, justice
gradually reigns in the will; rational fortitude and reasonable
moderation prevail in the sensible appetites. The infused moral
virtues, received in baptism, belong to a much higher order; they
have not only a rational but a supernatural formal motive. Under the
direction of infused faith, prudence and the Christian moral virtues
cause the light of grace, or the divine rule of the children of God,
to descend into the will and the sensible appetites.

Between the acquired prudence described by Aristotle
and the infused prudence received in baptism, there is a measureless
distance, far greater than that of an octave, which in music
separates two notes of the same name at the two extremities of a
complete scale. Thus a distinction is commonly made between the
philosophical temperance of a Socrates and Christian temperance, or
the philosophical poverty of a Crates and evangelical poverty, or
again the rational measure to be observed in the passions and
Christian mortification. For example, by itself acquired temperance
directed by reason alone does not take into consideration the
mysteries of faith, our elevation to the supernatural life, original
sin, the infinite gravity of mortal sin as an offense against God,
the value of charity or the divine friendship. Neither does it
consider the elevation of our supernatural end: “To be perfect
as our heavenly Father is perfect,” with a perfection of the
same order as His, although unequal to His.

Infused temperance, on the contrary, which is
directed by divine faith and Christian prudence, takes positively
into account all these revealed mysteries; it is ordained to make us,
not only truly reasonable beings, but to give us the supernaturalized
sensible appetites of a child of God.

Thus we see that these two virtues which bear the
same name of temperance are of very different metal: one is silver,
the other gold. In spite of the measureless distance separating them,
the infused virtue and the acquired virtue of the same name are
exercised together in the Christian in the state of grace, somewhat
like the art of the pianist, which is in his intellect, and the
agility of his fingers which gives to his art an extrinsic facility.

Thus the acquired virtue should, in the Christian, be
at the service of the infused virtue of the same name, just as the
imagination and the memory of a learned man concur in the work of his
intellect. Thereby the moral virtues are also at the service of
charity, the highest of the infused virtues. We shall discuss the
chief among these virtues, and first of all prudence.

Christ spoke of prudence on several different
occasions in the Gospel, particularly when He said to the apostles:
“I send you as sheep in the midst of wolves: Be ye therefore
wise as serpents and simple as doves.”160
Later on He also says: “Who, thinkest thou, is a faithful and
wise servant? . . . Blessed is that servant. . . . Amen I say to you,
he shall place him over all his goods.”161

Prudence, which is requisite for every man that he
may conduct himself well, is especially fitting for those who must
counsel and direct others. We must have a correct idea of this virtue
if we are not to confound it with defects which sometimes resemble
it, and if we are to distinguish clearly between acquired prudence,
good as it is in its own order, and infused prudence. For this reason
we shall first discuss defects to be avoided, then acquired prudence,
and finally infused prudence and the gift of counsel, which often
comes to the aid of the virtue in difficult cases.

DEFECTS TO BE AVOIDED

The value of the virtue is better seen by considering
the disadvantages of the contrary defects, which are often quite
manifest. Therefore Scripture, the more strongly to recommend
prudence to us, shows us the dangers and the results of lack of
consideration.

It contrasts for us the prudent and the foolish
virgins.162
St. Peter and St. Paul praise the prudence of the aged, especially of
those who are charged with watching over the first Christian
communities,163
adding: “Be not wise in your own conceits,”164
and declaring that God “will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the prudence of the prudent,”165
who rely chiefly on their suavity. And Christ says: “I confess
to Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast hid
these things [the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven] from the wise
and prudent, and hast revealed them to little ones.”166

Consequently there are two mutually contradictory
defects to be avoided: on the one hand, imprudence, lack of
consideration, negligence in considering what one should, rash haste
in judgment; and on the other hand, false prudence, or “the
wisdom of the flesh,”167
often called slyness or even cunning, which pursues only a lower,
quite earthly end. It seeks, not the honest good, the object of
virtue, but the useful good such as money, and it displays much craft
or trickery to procure this good for itself. Cunning is the
cleverness of rogues; it will not help them to enter the kingdom of
heaven. This false prudence is foolishness and a delusion, as St.
Paul often says.168

Imprudence, or lack of consideration, greatly retards
spiritual progress, and often it retards it by trying to hasten it.
This is the case with those who skim the road, who wish to reach
divine union immediately without passing humbly through the
indispensable lower degrees, as if a bird were to try to fly before
having wings, or an architect to construct the spires of a church
before laying its foundations. For example, these imprudent souls
read mystical books too soon and too rapidly, with avidity and in a
superficial way, without applying themselves to the serious practice
of virtue. They examine superficially the most beautiful aspects of
the spiritual life and will perhaps never nourish their souls with
them. It is as if they gathered from a fruit tree the flowers which
should give the fruit, unaware that by so doing they hinder the fruit
from forming. Later, when they should read the great spiritual
writers with profit, they will perhaps say that it is useless to do
so since they have already read them and know them; when as a matter
of fact they have only a lamentably superficial knowledge of them.
Theirs is the imprudence of the foolish virgins, the lack of
discretion in the spiritual life.

To avoid the mutually contradictory defects of
imprudence and false prudence, it is important to consider what
infused or Christian prudence should be and likewise what should
characterize acquired prudence, which is at the service of infused
prudence, as the imagination and memory are at the service of the
intellect. To follow an ascending course, we shall first discuss
acquired prudence, then infused prudence, and finally the gift of
counsel.

ACQUIRED PRUDENCE AND
SELF-CONTROL

Acquired prudence, which has for its object honest
good, is a true virtue distinct from false prudence, or the wisdom of
the flesh, which St. Paul speaks of. Acquired prudence is defined as
recta ratio agibilium, right reason which directs our acts. It
is called auriga virtutum, the driver of the moral virtues; in
reality, it directs the acts of justice, fortitude, temperance, and
the annexed virtues.169
It determines the measure to be observed or the rational happy mean,
which is also a summit, in the midst of and above every deviation
that may be unreasonable through defect or excess. Thus prudence
determines the happy mean of fortitude above cowardliness and
temerity, which would lead us to expose our life without a reasonable
motive. Aristotle spoke of mesotes (the happy mean) and
aerates (the summit).170

The virtue of acquired prudence, which was well
described by Aristotle, proceeds under the light of natural reason
and moral knowledge, making this rational light descend into our
sensibility, our will, and all our activity. But to determine the
reasonable happy mean in the different moral virtues, prudence
presupposes these virtues, as the coachman needs well-broken horses.171
There is a mutual relationship between the directing virtue and the
others; they grow together. Let us not forget that no one can have
true acquired prudence, distinct from cunning and artifice, if he has
not in a proportionate degree justice, fortitude, temperance,
loyalty, and true modesty. Why is this? Because, as the ancients used
to say: “Such as a man is, such does the end seem to him.”172
The ambitious man judges as good what flatters his pride, whereas the
sincerely modest man loves to do good while remaining hidden. He who
is dominated by ambition may have great cunning and subtlety; he
cannot have true acquired prudence, nor, with even greater reason,
infused prudence. Therefore St. Thomas says: “The truth of the
practical intellect depends on conformity with a right appetite.”173
Moreover, prudence ought not only to judge well, but to command
efficaciously the virtuous acts of justice, fortitude, and
temperance, and it cannot command them in this way unless the will is
upright and efficacious, rectified by these very virtues.174
Thus there is truly a mutual relationship between prudence and the
moral virtues which it directs; true acquired prudence cannot exist
without the acquired virtues of justice, fortitude, and temperance.
This rectitude of moral conduct is in itself something very
beautiful.175

Consequently, in a man in the state of mortal sin,
who sins seriously against justice, fortitude, temperance, or any
other virtue, the virtue of acquired prudence can be only in the
state of a slightly stable disposition (facile mobilis), for
the will of this man is turned away from his last end.176
That the acquired virtue of prudence exist in the state of a stable
virtue (difficile mobilis) and be in truth firmly connected
with the other moral virtues, we must have charity; we must
efficaciously love God, our last end, more than ourselves.177

Acquired prudence counsels us about many things which
natural reason can know by its own power. It will preserve us from
impulsiveness, dominate our temperament, tell us not to follow the
fancies of our imagination, the whims of our sensible appetites. It
will remind us that we must submit to the judgment of those who are
more enlightened and experienced, that we must obey those who have
authority to command. It will guide us in our dealings with different
people by taking their temperament and character into consideration.
But however perfect acquired prudence may be, since it belongs to the
natural or rational order, it cannot by itself judge as it should the
supernatural conduct to be observed in Christian life. For that
judgment, we need infused prudence, which is that recommended by the
Gospel.

INFUSED PRUDENCE

Infused prudence was given to us by baptism; it grows
with charity, through merit, the sacraments, Communion. By itself it
gives us an intrinsic facility to judge well and practically of the
matters of Christian life, and its exercise is extrinsically
facilitated by acquired prudence which is exercised at the same time.
Infused prudence brings to the actions of our daily life the light of
grace and of infused faith, as acquired prudence brings to them the
light of right reason. In certain very sensible Christians, acquired
prudence is especially prominent; in others, who are more
supernatural, infused prudence is particularly manifest.
Consequently, infused prudence is a great virtue, superior to all the
moral virtues which it directs; it should evidently be found
especially in those whose duty is to advise and direct others.

We are not concerned here, therefore, with that
negative prudence which, to avoid difficulties and vexations, almost
always advises against acting, against undertaking great things. This
prudence, which has as its principle: “Undertake nothing,”
is that of cowardly souls. After saying: “The best is sometimes
the enemy of the good,” it ends by declaring: “The best
is often the enemy of the good.” Such negative prudence
confounds the mediocre with the happy mean of the moral virtue, which
is also a summit above contrary vices. Mediocrity itself is an
unstable mean between good and evil; it is that with which tepidity
contents itself, seeking always for pardon by speaking of moderation
and stating its first principle: “Nothing must be exaggerated.”
Then follows forgetfulness of the fact that in the way of God, not to
advance is to retrogress; not to ascend is to descend; for the law of
the traveler is to advance, and not to fall asleep on the road. True
Christian prudence is not a negative but a positive virtue, which
leads a man to act as he should when he should, and which never loses
sight of the elevation of our supernatural last end, nor of zeal for
the glory of God and the salvation of souls. It definitively rejects
certain human maxims.

If acquired prudence presupposes the acquired moral
virtues, Christian prudence presupposes the infused moral virtues
which accompany charity. And if, in the first training, more
insistence is placed on these virtues, especially on humility,
chastity, and patience, than on prudence itself, it is because the
humble, chaste, and patient man is inclined by these very virtues to
judge well and practically (per modum inclinationis) of what relates
to moral and spiritual life. But when the Christian, who is already
more or less trained, must begin to direct himself, he should in many
things, especially if he must counsel others, be particularly
attentive to what true supernatural prudence demands, and avoid all
lack of consideration and rash haste in judgment. Then he will become
increasingly aware of the superiority of true Christian prudence, a
virtue which ranks immediately below the theological virtues, that it
may cause their radiation and vivifying influence to descend on the
moral virtues which it directs.

Therefore Christian prudence should grow with
charity, and its supernatural views should increasingly prevail over
the too human views of what St. Thomas, following the example of St.
Augustine, calls the “lower reason.” The lower reason
judges everything from the temporal point of view; the higher reason,
from the point of view of eternity.178

This lofty Christian prudence is exceedingly rare.
Father Lallemant, S.]., even says: “The majority of religious,
even of the good and virtuous, follow in their own conduct and in
their direction of others only reason and common sense, in which some
of them excel. This rule is good, but it does not suffice to attain
Christian perfection. Such persons are ordinarily guided in their
conduct by the common opinion of those with whom they live, and as
the latter are imperfect, although their lives may not be dissolute,
because the number of the perfect is very small, they never reach the
sublime ways of the spirit. They live like the common run of people,
and their manner of directing others is imperfect.”179
At certain times, for instance during persecutions, the inadequacy of
such a way of acting becomes evident.

True prudence never loses sight of the elevation of
the end toward which we should journey; it judges all our acts in
relation to eternal life, and not only in relation to the customs or
conventions of our environment. It repeatedly calls to mind “the
one thing necessary.” Aided by the special inspirations of the
gift of counsel,180
it becomes holy discretion which weighs all things according to God’s
measure.

HOLY DISCRETION AND THE
GIFT OF COUNSEL

St. Catherine of Siena offers an admirable treatise
on discretion or spiritual discernment in her Dialogue. She
tells us that Christian discretion, which indicates the measure
between the contrary defects and is the source of a wise discernment,
is based on the knowledge of God and of self. She states: “Discretion
is the only child of self-knowledge and, wedding with charity, has
indeed many other descendants, as a tree with many branches; but that
which gives life to the tree, to its branches, and its fruit, is the
ground of humility, in which it is planted, which humility is the
foster-mother and nurse of charity, by whose means this tree remains
in the perpetual calm of discretion.”181
This is a symbolical manner of expressing the connection of these
virtues.

Holy discretion presupposes, therefore, a great
spirit of faith. It lessens nothing; whereas practical naturalism
sees only a limited aspect of great things, holy discretion sees the
great aspect even of the little things in Christian life, of our
daily duties in their relation to God.182
It directs justice, which renders to God and to one’s neighbor
what is due them. As we read in The Dialogue (it is the Lord
who speaks):

Discretion
. . . renders to each one his due. Chiefly to Me in rendering praise
and glory to My name, and in referring to Me the graces and the gifts
which she sees and knows she has received from Me;183
and rendering to herself that which she sees herself to have merited,
knowing that she does not even exist of herself. . . . And she seems
to herself to be ungrateful for so many benefits, and negligent, in
that she has not made the most of her time, and the graces she has
received, and so seems to herself worthy of suffering; wherefore she
becomes odious and displeasing to herself through her guilt.184
And this founds the virtue of discretion on knowledge of self, that
is, on true humility, for, were this humility not in the soul, the
soul would be indiscreet; indiscretion being founded on pride, as
discretion is on humility.

An
indiscreet soul robs Me of the honor due to Me, and attributes it to
herself through vainglory, and that which is really her own she
imputes to Me, grieving and murmuring concerning My mysteries, with
which I work in her soul and those of My other creatures; wherefore
everything in Me and in her neighbor is cause of scandal to her.
Contrariwise those who possess the virtue of discretion. For when
they have rendered what is due to Me and to themselves, they proceed
to render to their neighbor their principal debt of love and of
humble and continuous prayer, which all should pay to each other and
further, the debt of doctrine, and example of a holy and honorable
life, counseling and helping others according to their needs for
salvation.185

Holy
discretion is thus the light which rules the virtues; it measures the
acts of exterior penance and those of devotion to our neighbor, at
the same time reminding us that our love of God should be without
measure and should always grow here on earth.186

Far from being a negative virtue, holy discretion is,
in the service of charity, the virtue which holds the reins of the
moral life, directing justice, fortitude, and temperance, that we may
persevere in good, that we may make God known and loved. Christian
prudence thus preserves with charity the connection of all the
virtues.

When this great Christian prudence is enlightened by
the special inspirations of the gift of counsel, which corresponds to
it, it is, as our Lord insists it should be, in accordance with “the
simplicity of the dove,” with perfect uprightness—not at
all naivete—which keeps silence about what must not be said,
but never speaks against the truth. A man must be master of his
tongue and know how to cultivate his character.

The gift of counsel comes to the assistance of
prudence especially in difficult and unforeseen circumstances,
sometimes to unite in one and the same word or gesture seemingly
contradictory virtues, as firmness and meekness, or again veracity
and fidelity in keeping a secret.

According to St. Augustine and St. Thomas,187
the gift of counsel corresponds to the beatitude of the merciful for
two reasons: first of all, mercy is necessary for us to know how to
give fitting salutary counsel to those who need it, counsel which
truly carries, which does not rebuff souls but lifts them up again
with strength and sweetness. In the second place, when prudence
hesitates in difficult circumstances between the rigor of justice to
be observed and mercy, which should not be forgotten, the gift of
counsel generally inclines us toward mercy which will encourage the
sinner and perhaps make him re-enter the order of justice. He will at
times enter it with a sincere and profound contrition, thus repairing
the order that he violated, far better than by bearing the punishment
with less love. Consequently the loftiness of infused prudence is
manifest; but we shall see it even more clearly in our discussion of
Christian simplicity, which should always be united to prudence.

Even now we grasp the importance of Christ’s
words: “Who, thinkest thou, is a faithful and wise servant,
whom his lord hath appointed over his family, to give them meat in
season? Blessed is that servant, whom when his lord shall come he
shall find so doing. Amen I say to you, he shall place him over all
his goods.”188
These words are applied to every faithful and prudent Christian,
especially to those who must advise others, to heads of families, to
pastors, to bishops, to great popes. They will receive a high reward,
to which allusion is made in Ecclesiasticus,189
where we read the praise of the wisdom and prudence of the
patriarchs, and in the prophecy of Daniel where it is said: “But
they that are learned [in the wisdom of God and faithful to His law]
shall shine as the brightness of the firmament: and they that
instruct many to justice, as stars for all eternity.”190
Let us remember that false prudence is tin, true acquired prudence is
silver, infused prudence is gold, and the inspirations of the gift of
counsel are diamonds, of the same order as the divine light. “He
that followeth Me walketh not in darkness, but shall have the light
of life.”191

Chapter 9: The Different Forms of Justice and the Education of the
Will

“Blessed
are they that hunger and thirst after justice.”Matt. 5:6

Among the four cardinal virtues of prudence, justice,
fortitude, and temperance, there is one, namely justice, which pious
people do not consider sufficiently. They are attentive to the
different forms of temperance, to prudence to be observed in the
general conduct of life; they try to practice charity toward their
neighbor, but they sometimes neglect certain duties of justice and
consideration for the rights of others. Those, for example, who
persecuted St. John of the Cross called themselves men of prayer and
austerity, yet they were most unjust toward the reformer of Carmel.

If man practiced the different forms of justice more
perfectly, he would make great progress in training his will.
Justice, in fact, is in that faculty to make it leave egoism or
self-love,192
as prudence is in the intellect to oppose lack of consideration, and
as fortitude and temperance are in the sensible appetites to
strengthen them against fear and inordinate concupiscences.193
For this reason these four virtues are called cardinal virtues. They
are like hinges on which the doors turn that give access to the moral
life.194
Some souls, while given to anger, are so cowardly that they seem to
have lost all will; indeed this faculty seems to have disappeared,
leaving only self-love or egoism. The reason is that the will is
considerably weakened when it is deprived of the acquired and infused
virtues which should be in it. On the other hand, a will enriched by
these virtues is increased more than tenfold.

We should remember that the four forms of justice,
which we are going to discuss, should be in the will and, above them,
the virtues of religion, hope, and charity. Thus the training or
Christian education of the will and character should be made.
Character should be the authentic imprint of reason illumined by
faith and of moral energy, a mark stamped on the physical
temperament, whether nervous, irascible, lymphatic, or sanguine,
hyperthyroid or hypothyroid, in order that this temperament may cease
to dominate, and that the Christian may truly appear as a rational
being and still more as a child of God.

Consequently, for this Christian education of the
will, we shall discuss the different forms of justice, to which
correspond several precepts of the Decalogue. After our duties toward
God, they determine those we should practice toward our parents and
toward all persons with whom we have relations: “Thou shalt not
covet thy neighbor’s goods. Thou shalt not bear false witness,”
and so on. We may transgress these precepts in many different ways
when we forget in practice that we should not do to others what we do
not wish them to do to us.195

People often think of justice only in the inferior
form known as commutative justice, which governs exchanges and
forbids theft, fraud, calumny, and so forth. They do not sufficiently
consider distributive justice,196
which presides over the distribution by authority of the advantages
and duties of social life among the different members of society. In
view of the common good, it distributes to each as it should goods,
work, duties, obligations, rewards, and penalties; this distribution
should be made in proportion to merit, real needs, and the importance
of the different members of society. Even more do people forget a
higher form of justice, which aims immediately at the common good of
society and brings about the establishment and observance of just
laws and ordinances; this form of justice is called legal justice.197
Above it there is equity, which considers not only the letter but the
spirit of laws, and that not only of civil laws, but of all those
that govern Christian conduct.198

The interior life should watch over the exercise of
these virtues. Here also the acquired virtue of justice is at the
service of the infused virtue of the same name, somewhat as the
imagination is at the service of reason.199

COMMUTATIVE AND
DISTRIBUTIVE JUSTICE IN RELATION TO THE INTERIOR LIFE

The duties of justice appear in a living and concrete
fashion when we think of faults against it which should be avoided,
for the sorrow that injustice causes us reveals to us the value of
justice. The faults and acts contrary to commutative justice are not
only homicide, theft, fraud, usury, false accusations and false
witness in a lawsuit; they are also insults given in anger, affronts,
unjust blame or reproaches against inferiors, equals, and superiors.
Also included are defamation, slander, or speaking ill of another
without a proportionate motive; also secret insinuation by
whispering, mockery which lessens the esteem due to our neighbor,200
forgetfulness of the truth that our neighbor has a right to his
reputation and that he needs it to do good, to such an extent, says
St. Thomas, that the perfect should, not for their own sakes, but for
the good to be done to others, resist their detractors.201

When commutative justice has been violated in one or
another of these ways, restitution or reparation becomes a duty. Thus
we must repair the wrong that we have done our neighbor by slander or
insinuations or mockery which show we do not regard him as he
deserves.202
Besides it is cowardly to ridicule someone who cannot defend himself,
or the absent who cannot reply.

The defect opposed to distributive justice is undue
respect of persons. We may indeed prefer one person to another and
gratuitously give more to one than to another. But the sin of undue
respect of persons consists in unjustly preferring one person to
another, taking from the latter something that is due him. This sin
is more grave in the spiritual order than in the temporal order: for
example, if we are more attentive to the exterior condition of
persons, to their wealth, than to their merits, and if we refuse them
the respect which is due them or the spiritual helps which they
need.203

Interior souls should be particularly watchful on
this point and on guard not to slight the friends of God, the saints
whom the Lord has chosen for Himself from the humblest stations in
life. Injustice is at times the portion of very patient servants of
God because everyone knows that they will not complain and will put
up with everything. This was often the lot of St. Benedict Joseph
Labre because people failed to see the heart of a great saint under
the rags of a beggar. On the contrary, clear-sighted souls should
sense or divine sanctity in their neighbor, even though it be under
the most humble exterior. Moreover, it is a great reward and a great
joy to discover sanctity. It must have been a great consolation to
verify the sanctity of Benedict Joseph Labre by seeing how he bore
insults and blows, when, for example, he kissed the stone which had
been thrown at him and had drawn his blood.

LEGAL JUSTICE, EQUITY,
AND THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER

Above commutative justice and distributive justice is
legal or social justice, which should have a lofty form in the
Christian and in interior souls. This virtue is concerned, not
directly with the rights of individuals, but with the common good of
society, and not only of civil society but of that spiritual society,
the Church, and the different groups in it. Legal justice leads a man
to observe perfectly the laws or constitutions of the society to
which he belongs. This virtue inclines the Christian to learn about
the laws to be observed and the instructions of the Supreme Pastor,
about his encyclicals on present-day questions. The reading and study
of these encyclicals are often neglected to the detriment of all.
Social justice should give us an understanding of the common good; it
combats individualism, which is one form of egoism.

Social justice disposes us to devote ourselves in
generous self-forgetfulness to the general good, and, if necessary,
to sacrifice our time, comfort, or personal satisfaction to it. Were
we to act otherwise, we would live on the common good like parasites,
instead of contributing to promote and maintain it. We receive much
from society and to it we are indebted. If we fail in our obligation,
we are like mistletoe, which lives on the oak tree at the tree’s
expense, sometimes causing its death. Society in general, indeed
every social group, has its parasites. To react against this vice
(into which a man might fall by trying to live like a hermit and
being indifferent to the common good), we must perform the duties of
legal justice and devote ourselves to the general good, mindful of
its superiority. From this point of view, love of our rule, of the
holy laws established in the Church, is a great virtue which protects
the soul against many disorders.204

Lastly, above legal or social justice there is
equity.205
This form of justice is attentive not only to the letter of the law,
but especially to its spirit, to the intention of the legislator. As
it considers chiefly the spirit of laws, it does not interpret them
with excessive rigor, in a mechanical and material manner, but with a
superior understanding, especially in certain special circumstances
in which, according to the intention of the legislator, it would not
be advisable to apply the letter of the law, for then the adage would
be verified: “Summum jus est summa injuria.” The strict
law in all its rigor would then be an injustice and an injury,
because the particularly difficult and distressing exceptional
circumstances in which the person involved might be placed would not
be taken into account.206

Equity, which preserves us from Pharisaism and from
the juridical formalism of many jurists, is thus the highest form of
justice; it is more conformable to wisdom and to great common sense
than to the written law.207
It has in view, over and above the text of the laws, the real
exigencies of the general good and inclines one to treat men with the
respect due to human dignity. This is a capital point; its importance
is grasped only as one grows older. Equity is a great virtue, whence
the expression: It is just and equitable to do this, for example, to
practice benevolence toward a dying enemy, toward wounded prisoners
of war who need help. Equity has thus some resemblance to charity,
which is superior to it.

If we were attentive to these four kinds of justice
that should be practiced, we would obviate many conflicts between
persons, between classes, between the different groups that ought to
labor at one work under the direction of God. These virtues, which
are subordinated to charity, would also considerably increase the
strength of our will; by withdrawing it from egoism and rectifying
it, they would increase its energies more than tenfold. This point
should be considered in connection with the Christian education of
character, which should succeed in dominating our physical
temperament and which should stamp it in the image of reason
illumined by faith. As a matter of fact, the acquired virtues cause
the rectitude of right reason to descend into the very depths of the
will, and the infused virtues bring to it the rectitude of faith and
the very life of grace, a participation in the inner life of God.

JUSTICE AND CHARITY

With a better knowledge of the loftiness of justice
under its different forms, we see more clearly the relations to
charity which should vivify it from above.

These two virtues have in common the fact that they
regulate good relations with others. But they differ from each other:
justice prescribes that we give to each man his due and allow him to
use it according to his right. Charity is the virtue by which we love
God above all else, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of
God. Therefore it goes far beyond respect for the right of others, in
order to make us treat other human beings like brothers in Christ,
whom we love like other selves in the love of God.208

In brief, as St. Thomas well shows, justice considers
our neighbor another person, in that he is a distinct person; charity
considers him as another self. Justice respects the rights of
another, charity gives over and above these rights for the love of
God and of the child of God. To pardon means to give over and beyond.

We can thus see why, as St. Thomas says, “Peace
(which is the tranquillity of order in the union of wills) is the
work of justice indirectly, in so far as justice removes the
obstacles to peace (such as wrongs, injuries); but it is the work of
charity directly, since charity, according to its very nature, causes
peace. For love is a unitive force . . . ; and peace is the union of
the appetites’ inclinations.”209

THE VIRTUES CONNECTED
WITH JUSTICE IN CHRISTIAN LIFE

Justice, thus vivified by charity, is accompanied by
several other virtues that resemble it. Among them, there is one
superior to justice, the virtue of religion, which renders to God the
worship due Him, interior and exterior worship, devotion (or
promptness of the will in the service of God), prayer, sacrifice of
adoration, of reparation, of supplication, of thanksgiving. This
virtue is opposed to irreligion, or impiety, and also to
superstition. It reminds us at the same time of the worship of dulia
due to the saints and that of hyperdulia due to the Mother of God.
Thus religion is inferior to the theological virtues. To religion
penance should be united to make reparation for offenses against God.

To justice are also attached filial piety toward
parents and one’s country, the respect due to merit, to age, to
the dignity of persons, obedience to superiors, gratitude for favors
received, vigilance in punishing justly when necessary at the same
time using clemency, lastly veracity in speech and in one’s
manner of living and acting. Veracity, which is a virtue, differs
from frankness, a simple inclination of temperament, which sometimes
borders on insolence and which forgets that not every truth is to be
told.

Justice reminds us that besides strict justice there
are the rights and duties of friendship (jus amicabile), in regard to
those who are more closely united to us. In respect to people in
general, there are also the duties of amiability, which is opposed to
adulation and to litigation or useless dispute. Lastly, there are the
duties of liberality, which avoids both avarice and prodigality.

All these different forms of justice are of great
importance in the conduct of life. At times pious people do not think
sufficiently about them; they put on the airs of a hermit more
egoistically than virtuously. Under the pretext of charity and the
prompting of bitter zeal, they may even fail in charity and justice
through rash judgment, slander, insinuation against their neighbor.

If, on the contrary, a man practiced generously the
virtues we have just spoken of, his will would be greatly rectified
and fortified, better disposed to live by the still higher virtues of
hope and charity, which should unite him to God and preserve this
union with God in the midst of the varied circumstances of life, even
of the most painful and unforeseen. To show oneself a Christian, even
in the smallest acts of life, is the true happiness of him who
follows Christ.

St. Thomas described the eminent degree of the
infused cardinal virtues when he wrote: “Prudence by
contemplating the things of God, counts as nothing all things of the
world, and directs all the thoughts of the soul toward God alone.
Temperance, as far as nature allows, neglects the needs of the body;
fortitude prevents the soul from being afraid of neglecting the body
and rising to heavenly things; and justice consists in the soul
giving a whole-hearted consent to follow the way thus proposed.”210
These are the perfecting virtues; higher still, according to St.
Thomas,211
are the virtues of the fully purified soul, “the perfect
virtues. . . . Such are the virtues attributed to the blessed, or, in
this life, to some who are at the summit of perfection.”

Thereby we see the grandeur of the virtue of justice,
which is the second cardinal virtue. It is superior to fortitude, to
temperance, and even to virginity. Justice is often no more than an
empty word for some souls; then injustice which must at times be
borne reminds them of the real value of justice. This great reality
appears especially in the evangelical beatitude: “Blessed are
they that hunger and thirst after justice: for they shall have their
fill.” The justice mentioned here is the highest degree of
justice, containing eminently all that we have just said.

Chapter 10: Patience and Meekness

“In
your patience you shall possess your souls.”Luke 21:19

In the difficult periods through which we have to
pass, we should remember what our Lord has told us about the virtue
of fortitude, which is necessary that we may not be frightened by any
menace, or arrested in the way of salvation by any obstacle. We shall
treat here especially of the virtue of patience, which is the most
frequent form under which fortitude of soul is exercised in the
vexations of life. In the Christian it should be united to meekness,
and in such a way that those who are naturally meek may learn to
become strong, and those who are naturally inclined to the virtue of
fortitude may become meek with the meaning given to the term by the
evangelical beatitude: “Blessed are the meek.” Thus both
will ascend toward the same summit, although by different paths. To
make this teaching clear, we shall discuss first of all the virtue of
patience, then that of meekness, both of which are in the service of
charity.

PATIENCE AND LONGANIMITY,
TWIN COLUMNS OF THE INTERIOR LIFE

“Charity
is patient.”I Cor. 13:4

Patience, says St. Thomas,212
is a virtue attached to the virtue of fortitude, which hinders a man
from departing from right reason illumined by faith by yielding to
difficulties and to sadness. It makes him bear the evils of life with
equanimity of soul, says St. Augustine,213
without allowing himself to be troubled by vexations. The impatient
man, no matter how violent he may be, is a weak man; when he raises
his voice and murmurs, he really succumbs from the moral point of
view. The patient man, on the contrary, puts up with an inevitable
evil in order to remain on the right road, to continue his ascent
toward God. Those who bear adversity that they may attain what their
pride desires, have not the virtue of patience but only its
counterfeit, hardness of heart.

By patience the soul truly possesses itself above the
fluctuations of the sensible part depressed by sadness.214
The martyrs are in the highest degree masters of themselves and free.
In patience is met again something of the principal act of the virtue
of fortitude: the enduring of painful things without weakening. It is
more difficult and meritorious, says St. Thomas, to endure for a long
time what keenly vexes nature than to attack an adversary in a moment
of enthusiasm.215
It is more difficult for a soldier to hold out for a long time under
a shower of bullets in a cold damp trench than with all the ardor of
his temperament to take part in an attack. If the virtue of fortitude
bears the blows that may cause death, as we see in the soldier who
dies for his country and still more in the martyr who dies for the
faith, the virtue of patience endures unflinchingly the
contradictions of life.216
Thus we see that this virtue of patience is the guardian of other
virtues; it protects them against the disorders that impatience would
cause; it is like a buttress of the spiritual edifice.

Some years ago Americanism spoke rather disdainfully
of the so-called passive virtues of patience, humility, and
obedience. A good writer replied that they are the twin columns of
the moral and spiritual life.

To have patience as a solid virtue, man must be in
the state of grace and have charity, which prefers God to everything
else, no matter what the cost. For this reason St. Paul says:
“Charity is patient.”217

If the contradictions of life last for a long time
without interruption, as happens in the case of a person forced to
live with someone who continually tantalizes him, then there is need
of longanimity, a special virtue resembling patience. It is called
longanimity because of the length of the trial, the duration of the
suffering, the insults, all that must be borne for months and years.

As St. Francis de Sales points out,218
patience makes us preserve equanimity of mind in the midst of the
variableness of the divers mishaps of this mortal life. “Let us
frequently call to mind,” he says, “that as our Lord has
saved us by patient sufferings, so we also ought to work out our
salvation by sufferings and afflictions, enduring injuries and
contradictions, with all possible meekness. . . . Some are unwilling
to suffer any tribulations but those that are honorable: for example,
to be wounded in battle. . . . Now these people do not love the
tribulation, but the honor wherewith it is accompanied; whereas he
that is truly patient suffers indifferently tribulation, whether
accompanied by ignominy or honor. To be despised, reprehended, or
accused by wicked men, is pleasant to a man of good heart; but to
suffer blame and ill treatment from the virtuous, or from our friends
and relations, is the test of true patience. . . . The evils we
suffer from good men are much more insupportable than those we suffer
from others.”219

To practice this virtue in a manner that is not stoic
but Christian, we should often recall the patience of Christ on the
cross, which surpasses human thought. For love of us He endured the
most severe physical and moral sufferings, which came to Him from the
fury of the priests of the Synagogue, from abandonment by His people,
from the ingratitude of His own, from the divine malediction due to
sin, which He willed to bear in our place as a voluntary victim. May
the patience of our Savior preserve our souls according to the words
of St. Paul: “And the Lord direct your hearts, in the charity
of God and the patience of Christ.”220
As a German proverb says, patience yields roses and ends by obtaining
all: “Geduld bringt rosen.”

When we have to practice this virtue in prolonged
trials, we should remember the teaching of the saints, that
sufferings well borne are like materials which compose the edifice of
our salvation. Sufferings are the portion of the children of God in
this life and a sign of predestination: “Through many
tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God,” we are
told in the Acts of the Apostles.221
It is essential to know how to suffer calmly without excessive
self-pity. Those who share most in the sufferings of Christ will be
most glorified with Him.222
Sometimes an act of great patience before death is sufficient; this
is the case of many dying persons who are reconciled to God a few
days or hours before their last breath.

SUPERNATURAL MEEKNESS AND
ITS FRUITS

“Charity
is kind.”I Cor 13:14

Meekness, or gentleness, should accompany patience
from which it differs in that it has as its special effect, not the
endurance of the vexations of life but the curbing of the inordinate
movements of anger,223
The virtue of meekness differs from meekness of temperament inasmuch
as, in widely diverse circumstances, it imposes the rectitude of
reason illumined by faith on the sensibility more or less disturbed
by anger. This virtue is superior to meekness of temperament, as the
virtue of chastity is to the laudable natural inclination called
modesty; similarly, the virtue of mercy is superior to sensible pity.
Meekness of temperament is exercised with facility toward those who
please us and is rather frequently accompanied by ill-temper toward
others. The virtue of meekness does away with this bitterness toward
all persons and in the most varied circumstances. Moreover, into a
just severity that is necessary at times, the virtue injects a note
of calmness, as clemency mitigates merited punishment. Meekness, like
temperance to which it is united, is the friend of the moderation or
the measure which causes the light of reason and that of grace to
descend into the more or less troubled sensible appetites.224
This is so in true martyrs.

Meekness thus conceived should reign not only in our
words and conduct, but also in our hearts; otherwise it is only an
artifice. As St. Francis de Sales points out, when it is inspired by
a supernatural motive and practiced even toward those who are
acrimonious, meekness is the flower of charity. “Charity is
kind,” says St. Paul. The flower is the most beautiful visible
part of a plant, that which most draws our gaze, and in spite of its
fragility, it has a very important role: it protects the fruit which
is forming in it.

Similarly meekness is that which is most visible and
most agreeable in the practice of charity; it is what constitutes its
charm. It appears in the gaze, the smile, the bearing, the speech; it
doubles the value of a service rendered. And besides, it protects the
fruits of charity and zeal; it makes counsels and even reproaches
acceptable. In vain will we have zeal for our neighbor, if we are not
meek; we appear not to love him and we lose the benefit of our good
intentions, for we seem to speak through passion rather than reason
and wisdom, and consequently we accomplish nothing.

Meekness is particularly meritorious when practiced
toward those who make us suffer; then it can only be supernatural,
without any admixture of vain sensibility. It comes from God and
sometimes has a profound effect on our neighbor who is irritated
against us for no good reason. Let us remember that the prayer of St.
Stephen called down grace on the soul of Paul, who was holding the
garments of those who stoned the first martyr. Meekness disarms the
violent.

St. Francis de Sales, who loves analogies taken from
nature, remarks: “Nothing so soon appeases the enraged elephant
as the sight of a little lamb, and nothing so easily breaks the force
of a cannon shot as wool.”225
Thus at times Christian meekness, which inclines a man to present his
right cheek when someone strikes him on the left, disarms the person
who is irritated. He indeed is the bruised reed; if he is answered in
the same tone, he will be completely broken; if he is answered with
meekness, he will gradually revive.

St. Francis de Sales also declares: “It is
better to make penitents through meekness than hypocrites through
severity.” In his letters he reverts again and again to advice
such as this: “Take care to practice well the humble meekness
that you owe to everybody, for it is the virtue of virtues which our
Lord greatly recommended to us;226
and if you should happen to violate it, do not be troubled, but with
all confidence, get back on your feet in order to walk anew in peace
and meekness as before.” Everyone knows that the Bishop of
Geneva never tired of saying that more flies are caught with honey
than with vinegar. Zeal is necessary, but it should be patient and
meek.

We ought, consequently, to avoid bitter zeal, which
sermonizes indiscriminately and which has brought about the failure
of many reforms in religious orders. Opposing this bitter zeal, which
is not inspired by charity but by pride, St. John of the Cross used
to say: “There where there is not sufficient love, put love in
and you will reap love.”227
We should also note that meekness, which is spoken of in the
beatitude of the meek, corresponds, as St. Augustine and St. Thomas
state, to the gift of piety.228
This gift inspires in us, as a matter of fact, an entirely filial
affection toward God; it makes us consider Him more and more as a
very loving Father, and consequently it makes us see in men, not
strangers, nondescript people or rivals, but brothers, that is,
children of our common Father.229
The gift of piety makes us say more profoundly both for ourselves and
for others: “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy
name, Thy kingdom come. . . .” We desire that the kingdom of
God may take more profound possession of us and of our brethren, and
this desire brings to our souls a great supernatural meekness which
radiates on our neighbor. Indeed meekness, united to this gift of the
Holy Ghost, is like the flower of charity.

To practice this virtue well, we should consider it
in our Lord. His meekness is manifestly supernatural, springing from
zeal for the salvation of souls; instead of diminishing zeal,
meekness protects its fruits.

Isaias had announced the Savior, saying: “Neither
shall His voice be heard abroad. The bruised reed He shall not break,
and smoking flax He shall not quench.”230
In response to Peter’s query as to how often he should pardon
his brother, Christ said: “I say not to thee, till seven times;
but till seventy times seven times.”231
He willed to be called “the Lamb of God . . . who taketh away
the sin of the world.”232
At His baptism the Holy Ghost descended upon Him in the form of a
dove, another symbol of meekness.233
Finally, on the cross He pardoned His executioners while praying for
them; it is the smile of meekness in the supreme act of fortitude:
the smile of the Crucified is the highest expression of goodness on
earth.

Often martyrs, like St. Stephen while he was being
stoned, followed the example of Jesus and prayed for their
executioners. This very great supernatural meekness is one of the
signs by which true martyrs are distinguished from the false. False
martyrs die for their own ideas or opinions and through pride rebel
against suffering; they may be aided in this by the spirit of evil.
The connection or harmony of outwardly contradictory virtues is not
manifest in them; their fortitude, which is stubbornness, is not
accompanied by meekness. True martyrs, on the contrary, practice
meekness even toward their executioners and often pray for them,
following the example of Jesus. To forget one’s own sufferings
in order thus to think of the salvation of one’s persecutors,
of the good of their souls, is a sign of the highest charity and of
all the virtues that are harmonized in it.

Let us often, in practice, ask our Lord for the
virtue of meekness united to humility of heart. Let us ask Him for it
at the moment of Communion, in that intimate contact of our soul with
His, of our intellect and heart with His intellect illumined by the
light of glory and His heart overflowing with charity. Let us ask Him
for it by spiritual communion that is frequently renewed and,
whenever the occasion presents itself, let us practice these virtues
effectively and generously.

Then we shall see the realization of the words of the
Master:

“Take up My yoke upon you and learn of Me,
because I am meek and humble of heart; and you shall find rest to
your souls.”234
We shall find rest for our souls; to know to what extent, we must
experience it at a time of trouble and vexation. We should then make
a more profound act of humility and meekness, pardoning fully those
who have offended or wounded us, and we shall see how true are
Christ’s words. Our soul will thus take its right place in
relation to God and our neighbor; with the help of grace it will be
more profoundly restored to order, and it will recover the
tranquillity of order, if not joy, at least the interior peace of an
upright conscience united to God. We shall thus find peace in love,
not the peace which the world can give, but that which comes from
God. The peace which the world gives is wholly exterior; it is peace
with the spirit of the world, with the enemies of God, with our evil
inclinations; consequently it is interior disagreement with good
people and with ourselves; it is the death of the soul. If there is
any apparent tranquillity in us, it is that of death which hides
decomposition and corruption.

The peace which the Lord gives is above all interior,
and we cannot have it without incessant war against our inordinate
passions, our pride and concupiscences, against the spirit of the
world and the devil. For this reason our Lord, who brings us interior
peace, says also: “I came not to send peace, but the sword.”235
How, in fact, can we be humble and meek toward all without doing
violence to ourselves? Then we have war on the frontiers of our soul,
but peace reigns within. In spite of the demands of God’s love,
we experience that His yoke is sweet and His burden light. The weight
of His burden diminishes with the progress of patience, humility, and
meekness, which are, as it were, forms of the love of God and of
neighbor in the sense in which St. Paul says: “Charity is
patient, is kind; charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely; is not
puffed up; . . . is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil; . . .
rejoiceth with the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things,
hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never falleth away.”236

It is truly eternal life begun like a prelude of
unending beatitude.237

Chapter 11: The Value of Chastity and Its Spiritual Fruitfulness

We have discussed prudence, justice, fortitude, and
patience, which are all united to meekness. We must now consider what
temperance should be in us, especially under the form in which we
most need to practice it, namely, that of chastity, which corresponds
to that of the beatitude: “Blessed are the clean of heart.”
We shall first consider this virtue in the most general manner, as it
should be practiced in every condition or type of life, including
Christian marriage. To proceed with order, we shall speak of the
value of this virtue, of the motive which ought to inspire it. We
shall then see its spiritual fruitfulness, especially when it is
practiced under its highest form, virginity.238

THE MOTIVE THAT SHOULD
INSPIRE CHASTITY

Chastity, says St. Thomas, is not simply that
laudable natural disposition called modesty, a happy inclination,
fearful by nature, which, through its very fear of evil, protects the
soul against the disorders of concupiscence. Modesty, no matter how
laudable, is not a virtue; it is only a natural good disposition.
Chastity is a virtue and, as the name virtue indicates, it is a
power. The acquired virtue of chastity, as it appeared in the
Vestals, causes the light of right reason to descend into the
occasionally disturbed and troubled sensibility. Infused chastity,
received at baptism, causes the light of grace to descend into the
sensible part of the soul; it makes use of acquired chastity somewhat
as the intellect makes use of the imagination. They are exercised
together; acquired chastity is thus at the service of infused
chastity.239
Virginity is a still higher virtue, for it offers to God for a whole
lifetime the integrity of body and heart which it consecrates to Him.
It resembles simple chastity, says St. Thomas, as munificence
resembles liberality, since it offers a splendid gift, absolute
integrity.240
According to St. Cyprian and St. Ambrose, it gives the Church a
particular splendor241
and contributes in giving it the luster of the mark of sanctity, to
distinguish it from the sects which have renounced the evangelical
counsels.

The value of chastity, whether that of virgins,
widows, or married people, appears first of all by contrast with the
disorders which spring from the concupiscence of the flesh, disorders
which often bring in their wake divorce, family dishonor, the
unhappiness of married couples and their children. We need only
recall the divorce of Henry VIII of England, which drew practically
the entire country into schism and then into heresy. To preserve us
from similar errors, Christ says to all: “If thy right eye
scandalize thee, pluck it out. . . . And if thy right hand scandalize
thee, cut it off. . . . For it is expedient for thee that one of thy
members should perish, rather than that thy whole body go into
hell.”242

Chastity is lost through the exterior senses, the
thoughts, the desires of the heart. It does not admit of any kind of
forbidden pleasure. It retrenches even pleasures that are useless
though permitted, and it leads man to live detached from them.

The motive that should inspire chastity is the love
of God. Chastity of heart and body is in reality the renunciation of
every illicit affection out of love of God. It prevents the life of
the heart from descending, so that it may rise toward God like a
living flame ever more pure and ardent. Chastity of the body is like
bark around chastity of the heart, which is the more precious.

To preserve this virtue we must keep always
spiritually close to Jesus crucified, as St. Francis de Sales says.243
We cannot do this without a twofold mortification: that of the body
and senses, especially as soon as danger arises, and that of the
heart, by forbidding ourselves every inordinate affection. Such an
affection would become not only useless, but harmful, and would start
us down a perilous slope. It is only too easy for us to descend, and
to slip much more rapidly than we foresee, and it is very difficult
to reascend. People sometimes forge chains for themselves which later
they lack the courage to break. They end by saying as worldings do:
“Human love, if sincere, has undeniable rights.” To this
we must answer: “There can be no rights contrary to the love
due to God, the sovereign Good and Source of all truly generous
love.”

On inordinate affections, The Imitation
declares: “Whenever a man desireth anything inordinately,
straightway he is disquieted within himself. . . . It is by resisting
the passions therefore, and not by serving them, that true peace of
heart is to be found. Peace, therefore, is . . . in the fervent and
spiritual man.”244
In the same work we read that excessive familiarity with people
causes the soul to lose intimacy with our Lord. The author declares:
“How foolish and vain, if thou desire anything out of Jesus! Is
not this a greater loss to thee than if thou shouldst lose the whole
world? . . . Whoever findeth Jesus, findeth a good treasure, a good
above every good. . . . For His sake and in Him, let enemies as well
as friends be dear to thee; and for all these thou must pray to Him
that all may know and love Him.”245
The same sentiments are also expressed in the hymn, Jesu, dulcis
memoria:

To reach this close union with Christ, we must be
humble and pure of heart; we must, as St. Francis de Sales says,
always practice humility and chastity and, if possible, never or very
rarely mention them.

THE SPIRITUAL
FRUITFULNESS OF CHASTITY

Chastity practiced in its perfection makes man live
in mortal flesh a spiritual life which is like the prelude of eternal
life. Since it frees man from matter, it makes him in a manner like
the angels. It even has for its effect to make his body increasingly
like the soul, and the soul more and more like to God.

When the body lives only for the soul, it tends in
fact to resemble it. The soul is a spiritual substance that can be
seen immediately only by the spiritual gaze of God and the angels. It
is simple because it has no extended parts; it is beautiful,
especially when it keeps a continually upright intention, beautiful
with the beauty of beautiful doctrines, of beautiful actions; it is
calm, in the sense that it is above every corporeal movement; it is
incorruptible or immortal because it is simple and immaterial,
because it does not depend intrinsically on a perishable body.

By purity the body becomes spiritual, so to speak;
from time to time it lets the soul shine through the gaze especially,
like the look of a saint in prayer. By this virtue the body becomes
simple: in proportion as the attitude of a worldly woman is complex,
in the same proportion that of a virgin is simple. As someone has
said: “There are two very simple beings: the child, who does
not yet know evil; and the saint, who has forgotten it by dint of
conquering it.” By purity the body grows beautiful, for all
that is pure is beautiful: for example, an unclouded sky, a diamond
through which light passes without any hindrance. Thus the bodies of
the saints represented in the frescoes of Fra Angelico have a
supernatural beauty which is that of a soul given entirely to God. By
purity the body becomes calm and, in a certain way, even
incorruptible; whereas vice withers, ravages, and kills the body
prematurely, virginity preserves it.

Neither the body of our Lord nor that of the Blessed
Virgin underwent the corruption of the tomb. Not infrequently the
bodies of the saints remain intact, and long after their death
sometimes exhale an exquisite odor, a sign of their perfect chastity.
Their body, which lived only for the soul, still keeps its imprint.
The Eucharist leaves, as it were, seeds of immortality in the body,
which is destined to rise again and to receive a reflection of the
glory of the soul. Christ tells us: “He that eateth My flesh
and drinketh My blood, hath everlasting life; and I will raise him up
in the last day.”246

Since perfect chastity renders the body like to the
soul, it is even truer to say that it renders the soul like to God.
The three attributes of God appropriated respectively to each of the
divine Persons are power, wisdom, love. By perfect purity the soul
becomes increasingly strong, luminous, and loving. Here especially
appears the fruitfulness of this virtue.

By chastity the soul becomes strong. We have only to
recall the courage of the virgin martyrs: St. Cecilia, St. Agnes, St.
Catherine of Alexandria, St. Lucy of Syracuse, and many others. Their
executioners tired more quickly of torturing them than they did of
suffering. St. Lucy declared to her judges that a chaste and pious
soul is the temple of the Holy Ghost. Upon this answer, they
determined to profane her body by dragging her to a place of
debauchery, but she remained rooted to the ground like a pillar of
granite; the Holy Ghost kept her for Himself in spite of the efforts
of her persecutors. The Lord gave these virgins an invincible
strength which made them surmount every fear in the midst of the most
severe torments. Though not miraculous, what strength, what moral
authority perfect purity gives to religious in hospitals, in prisons,
where they often gain the respect of poor perverted creatures who
recognize in this virtue a superior power, that of the strong woman
whom nothing weakens! For this reason particularly, the Virgin of
virgins, the refuge of sinners and consoler of the afflicted, is
terrible to the demons. She also bears the name of Mary Help of
Christians or Our Lady of Perpetual Help. We may all hope in her
power, which is full of goodness.

Likewise by purity the soul becomes luminous:
“Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God.”
The Eagle of the Evangelists was a virgin, and so was St. Paul. St.
Thomas, the greatest of theologians, was delivered at the age of
sixteen from every temptation of the flesh that he might devote his
entire life to the contemplation of divine things which he was to
teach to others. Perfect purity also gives occasionally to Christian
virgins, like Catherine of Alexandria and Catherine of Siena, a
supernatural perception enabling them to see in a way even in this
life the beauty of God, the sublime harmony of the apparently most
contradictory divine perfections, such as God’s infinite
justice and the tenderness of His mercy. These Christian virgins do
not confound the good pleasure of God with arbitrariness; they do not
argue about the mysteries of infallible Providence and of
predestination, but if they touch upon them, they use exact
expressions full of the spirit of faith. This clear vision of pure
love has also enabled contemplatives and Christian virgins devoid of
theological learning to write unforgettable pages on the spiritual
beauty of Christ’s countenance, on the secret that unites in
Him the most heroic fortitude and the most tender compassion,
superabundant sadness and the loftiest serenity, the supreme demands
of justice and the inexhaustible treasures of mercy. Only great
wisdom knows what can be said and what remains inexpressible on this
subject, a mystery that calls for the silence of adoration.

Finally, perfect purity gives to the soul, together
with supernatural light, a spiritual love of God and of our neighbor,
which is truly the hundredfold and which compensates far in excess of
all the sacrifices we have made or still have to make.

In a truly purified heart, the love of God becomes
increasingly tender and strong. Far removed from all sentimentality,
it rises above the sensibility; in the higher part of the spiritual
will, it becomes that living flame of love spoken of by St. John of
the Cross. It is the perfect realization of what the supreme precept
demands: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart
and with thy whole soul and with all thy strength and with all thy
mind.”247
Under certain touches of the Holy Ghost, the spiritual heart melts,
as it were, into that of the Savior to draw from Him greater strength
and ever new youth. In this love there is a savor of eternal life.

When the soul consecrated to God is wholly faithful,
it merits the name of spouse of Christ. By the strength and
tenderness of its love, it is associated with His sorrows, His
immortal joys, His profound work in souls, His anticipated or
definitive victories.

At the summit of this ascent, there is on earth
between the consecrated soul and its God a spiritual marriage, an
indissoluble union which transforms it into Him and enables it to
say: “My beloved to me, and I to Him.” This spiritual
marriage is a profound intimacy, reaching at times even to the
revelation of most secret thoughts. There are a thousand things which
the faithful spouse of Christ divines and foresees. Between Christ
and the soul there is perfect communion of ideas, sentiment, will,
sacrifice, and action for the salvation of souls; and the reception
of the Holy Eucharist each day with greater fervor, a fervor of the
will, if not of the sensibility, is the daily testimony of this love.

This very pure and strong love of God and of souls in
God is the source of a lofty spiritual paternity or maternity. To
convince ourselves of this we need only recall the words of St. John
the Evangelist to his children. Our Lord said to His apostles:
“Little children, yet a little while I am with you.”248
St. John says to his disciples: “My little children, these
things I write to you,”that you may not sin.”249
“Your sins are forgiven you for His name’s sake.”250
“And now, little children, abide in Him, that when He shall
appear we may . . . not be confounded by Him at His coming.”251
“Let no man deceive you.”252
“Let us not love in word nor in tongue, but in deed and in
truth.”253
“You are of God, little children. . . . Greater is He that is
in you, than he that is in the world.”254

St. Paul speaks with the same fatherly tenderness and
strength when he writes to the Galatians: “My little children,
of whom I am in labor again, until Christ be formed in you. . . . I
am ashamed for you.”255
To the Corinthians he writes: [Shall I remind you of] my daily
instance, the solicitude for all the churches. Who is weak, and I am
not weak? Who is scandalized, and I am not on fire?”256

Such is spiritual fatherhood in all its generosity,
tenderness, and strength. It compensates far and beyond for the
temporal fatherhood which the Apostle renounces. He does not found a
definite and limited home where a life that will last sixty or eighty
years is transmitted. He labors to form souls for our Lord, to
communicate to them a life that will last forever.

Also worthy of admiration is the spiritual maternity
of true religious, who, by increasing fidelity, deserve to be called
spouses of Jesus Christ. They exercise this maternity toward
abandoned children, the poor who have been forsaken by all, the sick
who have no resources, suffering souls who are drifting away, and the
agonizing. To such religious Christ will say: “I was thirsty,
and you gave Me to drink; . . . I was hungry; . . . naked, . . . sick
. . . in prison, and you came to Me. . . . Amen I say to you, as long
as you did it to one of these My least brethren, you did it to Me.”

Perfect purity renders the soul increasingly like to
God, strong, luminous, loving, and makes man share in God’s
spiritual paternity, in that of the Savior, who came to found not a
restricted family, but the great family of the Church which should
extend to all peoples and to all generations. All this shows the
grandeur of the evangelical counsel of chastity and of its effective
practice.

The spirit of this counsel has on occasion also
completely transfigured temporal fatherhood or motherhood. One of the
greatest examples is that of St. Monica who, having given birth to
Augustine, brought him forth spiritually by her tears and prayers.
Monica thus obtained the conversion of her son; she became doubly his
mother, of body and soul. All who are indebted to St. Augustine for
the doctrine he taught should thank the mother to whom Ambrose said:
“The son of so many tears could not perish.”

To sum up, the moral virtue of chastity, when truly
understood and practiced in a high degree, prepares the soul to
receive the grace of contemplation, which proceeds from living faith
illumined by the gifts. Then begins the realization of the promise:
“Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God.”
The truly pure soul begins, as it were, to see God in prayer, while
uniting itself more intimately to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, to
the Consecration, and to Communion. It also begins to see divine
Providence in the circumstances of life, for “to them that love
God [and who persevere in this love], all things work together unto
good.” Finally, following this way, man begins to see God in
the souls of those about him; gradually he sometimes discovers, under
a thick and opaque envelope, a luminous soul that pleases God far
more than he had first thought. Thus to see God in souls is a grace
that must be merited. It requires a particular clear perception which
is gradually obtained by detachment from self and a more pure and
strong love of God, which makes us discover in Him those who love Him
and those who are called to love Him, those from whom we can receive
and those to whom we can and should give for love of Him.

Chapter 12: The Humility of Proficients

“The
Son of man is not come to be ministered unto, but to minister and to
give His life a redemption for many.”Matt. 20:28

Since we are discussing here especially the moral
virtues that have a special connection with the theological virtues
and the life of union with God, we must consider what humility should
be in proficients.

The importance and nature of this Christian virtue
show clearly the distance which separates the acquired virtues
described by the pagan philosophers from the infused virtues spoken
of in the Gospel. In speaking of prudence, we recalled the distance
between them, which is based on a distinction of nature. We shall get
a clearer idea of this distance in speaking of humility, and even
more in considering this virtue in our model, our Lord Jesus Christ.

Humility is considered in all Christian tradition as
the foundation of the spiritual life, since it removes pride, which
is, says Holy Scripture, the beginning of every sin because it
separates us from God. Thus humility has often been compared to the
excavation which must be dug for the erection of a building, an
excavation which should be so much the deeper in proportion as the
building is to be higher. From this point of view, as we have seen,257
the two principal pillars of the temple to be built are faith and
hope, and its dome is charity.

Humility ought certainly to repress pride under all
its forms, including intellectual and spiritual pride, which we have
already discussed.258
But the principal, essential act and the highest act of humility is
not, to be exact, the actual repression of movements of pride. It is
evident, in fact, that in our Lord and in Mary there never was a
first movement of pride to repress, and nevertheless there was in
them and there still is the eminent exercise of the virtue of
humility. What is, therefore, the essentially characteristic act of
humility, first toward God, then toward our neighbor?

HUMILITY TOWARD GOD

The act proper to humility consists in bowing toward
the earth, calledhumus in Latin, from which the name of this
virtue is derived. To speak without metaphor, its essential act
consists in abasing ourselves before God and adore what is of God in
every creature. To abase ourselves before the Most High is to
recognize, not only in a speculative but in a practical manner, our
inferiority, littleness, and indigence, manifest in us even though we
are innocent, and, once we have sinned, it consists in recognizing
our wretchedness.

Thus humility is united to obedience and religion,
but it differs from them. Obedience is concerned with the authority
of God and His precepts; religion considers His excellence and the
worship due Him. Humility, by inclining us toward the earth,
recognizes our littleness, our poverty, and in its way glorifies the
majesty of God. It sings His glory as when the archangel Michael
said: “Who is like to God?” The interior soul experiences
a holy joy in annihilating itself, as it were, before God to
recognize practically that He alone is great and that, in comparison
with His, all human greatness is empty of truth like a lie.

Humility thus conceived is based on truth, especially
on the truth that there is an infinite distance between the Creator
and the creature. The more this distance appears to us in a living
and concrete manner, the more humble we are. However lofty the
creature may be, this abyss is always infinite; and the higher we
ascend, the more evident does this infinite abyss become for us. In
this sense, the highest soul is the most humble, because the most
enlightened: the Blessed Virgin Mary is more humble than all the
saints, and our Lord is far more humble than His holy Mother.

We see the connection of humility with the
theological virtues by determining its twofold dogmatic basis, which
was unknown to the pagan philosophers. At its root are two dogmas.
Primarily, it is based on the mystery of creation ex nihilo, which
the philosophers of antiquity did not know, at least explicitly, but
which reason can know by its natural powers. We have been created
from nothing; this is the basis of humility according to the light of
right reason.259

Humility is also based260
on the mystery of grace and on the necessity of actual grace for the
slightest salutary act. This mystery exceeds the natural powers of
reason; it is known by faith, and it is expressed in these words of
the Savior: “Without Me you can do nothing”261
in the order of salvation.

From this principle spring four consequences in
respect to God the Creator, to His providence and to His goodness,
which is at once the source of grace and of the remission of sin.

First of all, in relation to God the Creator, we
should recognize not only speculatively, but practically and
concretely, that of ourselves we are nothing: “My substance is
as nothing before Thee.”262
“What hast thou that thou hast not received?”263
We were created out of nothing by a sovereignly free fiat of
God, by His love of benevolence, which preserves us in existence,
without which we would be immediately annihilated. Furthermore, after
creation, though there are a number of beings, there is no increase
in reality, no increase of perfection, wisdom, or love; for before
creation the infinite plenitude of divine perfection already existed.
Therefore in comparison with God we are not.

If all that comes from God were taken away from even
our best free acts, strictly speaking nothing would remain, for in
such an act one part does not come from us and the other from God.
The act is entirely from God as from its first cause, and it is
entirely from us as from its second cause. Thus the fruit of a tree
is entirely from God as from its first cause and entirely from the
tree as from Its second cause. We should recognize practically that
without God, the Creator and Preserver of all things, we are nothing.

Secondly, in regard to Providence, without God the
supreme Ordainer, without His providence which directs all things,
our life completely lacks direction. We should, therefore, humbly
receive from Him the general direction of the precepts that we may
reach eternal life, and the particular direction that the Most High
has chosen from all eternity for each one of us. This particular
direction is manifested to us by our superiors, who are
intermediaries between God and us, by counsels to which we should
have recourse, by events, by the inspirations of the Holy Ghost.
Consequently we should humbly accept the place, it may perhaps be
very modest, which God has willed from all eternity for each one of
us. Thus in the religious life, according to the divine will, some
should be like the branches of the tree, others like flowers, others
like roots hidden in the earth. Yet the root is most useful; it draws
from the soil the secretions that constitute the sap necessary for
the nourishment of the tree. If all its roots were cut, the tree
would die; but it would not die were all its branches and flowers
cut. Humility, which leads a Christian, a religious, to accept a
hidden place very willingly, is extremely fruitful not only for
himself but for others. Christ in His sorrowful life humbly wished
the last place, that in which Barabbas was preferred to Him, the
opprobrium of the cross; by so doing He became the corner stone in
the edifice of the kingdom of God: “The stone which the
builders rejected, the same is become the head of the corner. By the
Lord this has been done; and it is wonderful in our eyes.”264
St. Paul wrote to the Ephesians: “You are no more strangers . .
. , but you are fellow citizens with the saints, and the domestics of
God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus
Christ Himself being the chief corner stone.”265

Such is the solid, marvelously fruitful humility,
which even in the most hidden places sings the glory of God. We
ought, therefore, to receive humbly the special direction He has
chosen for us, even though it should lead us to profound immolation:
“The Lord killeth and maketh alive; He bringeth down to hell
and bringeth back again. . . . He humbleth and He exalteth.”266
This is one of the most beautiful recurrent themes in the Scriptures.

Thirdly, in this special direction chosen by God for
us, we cannot take the slightest step forward, or perform the least
salutary and meritorious act without the help of an actual grace. We
need this grace particularly to persevere to the end and should,
consequently, humbly ask. for it.

Even if we had a high degree of sanctifying grace and
charity, ten talents for example, we should still need an actual
grace for the least salutary act. And especially for a happy death we
need the great gift of final perseverance, which we must daily ask
for in the Hail Mary with humility and confidence. Christian humility
says joyfully with St. Paul: “Not that we are sufficient to
think anything of ourselves, as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is
from God.”267
“No man can say the Lord Jesus, but by the Holy Ghost.”268
In short, humility should recognize practically and a little better
every day the majesty of God the Creator, the Ordainer of all things,
and the Author of grace.

Finally, while humility, which recognizes our
indigence, should be found in all the just and should be in the
innocent man, it is after we commit sin that we should recognize
practically not only our indigence, but our wretchedness: the
baseness of our selfish, narrow hearts, of our inconstant wills, of
our vacillating, whimsical, ungovernable characters; the wretched
weaknesses of our minds, guilty of unpardonable forgetfulness and
contradictions that they could and should avoid; the wretchedness of
pride, of concupiscence, which leads to indifference to the glory of
God and the salvation of souls. This wretchedness is beneath
nothingness itself since it is a disorder, and it occasionally
plunges our souls into a contemptible state of abjection.

The Divine Office often reminds us in the Miserere of
these great truths: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy
great mercy, and according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies
blot out my iniquity. Wash me yet more from my iniquity, and cleanse
me from my sin. . . . To Thee only have I sinned, and have done evil
before Thee. . . . Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be
cleansed: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow:.
. . . Turn away Thy face from my sins, and blot out all my
iniquities. Create a clean heart in me, O God; and renew a right
spirit Within my bowels. . . . Restore unto me the joy of Thy
salvation.”269
“Who can understand sins? From my secret ones, cleanse me, O
Lord.”270

How greatly this abasement of genuine humility
differs from pusillanimity, which is born of human respect or of
spiritual sloth! Contrary to magnanimity, pusillanimity refuses the
necessary labor. Humility, far from being opposed to grandeur of
soul, is united to it. A Christian should tend toward great things
worthy of great honor, but he should tend toward them humbly and, if
necessary, by the way of great humiliations.271
He should learn to say often: “Not to us, O Lord, not to us;
but to Thy name give glory.”272

The pusillanimous man is one who refuses to do what
he can and should do; he may sin mortally when he refuses to
accomplish what is gravely obligatory. Humility, on the contrary,
abases man before the Most High that he may take his true place. It
abases him before God only to allow God to act more freely in him.
Far from becoming discouraged, the humble soul entrusts itself to God
and, if the Lord does great things through it, it does not glorify
itself any more than the ax in the hands of the woodsman, than the
harp in the hands of the harpist. With the Blessed Virgin Mary, the
humble soul says: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done
to me according to thy word.”

HUMILITY TOWARD OUR
NEIGHBOR

Writing on the subject of humility toward our
neighbor, St. Thomas says in a manner as simple as profound:
“Wherefore every man, in respect of that which is his own,
ought to subject himself to every neighbor, in respect of that which
the latter has of God’s.”273

In fact, every man, considering that of himself he is
nothing, that what he has of himself is only his indigence,
defectibility, and deficiencies, ought not only in a speculative way
but also in a practical way to recognize that all he has of himself
as coming from himself, is inferior to what every other man has from
God in the order of nature and that of grace.

The holy doctor adds in substance: It is possible,
without falsehood, to deem and avow ourselves the most despicable of
men, as regards the hidden faults which we acknowledge in ourselves
and the hidden gifts of God which others have.274
For this reason the Psalmist says: “From my secret ones [sins],
cleanse me, O Lord.”275
St. Augustine says also: “Consider that certain people are in a
hidden way better than you are, although you may appear morally
superior to them.”276

We should also say with St. Augustine: “There
is no sin committed by another which I, by reason of my own frailty,
may not commit; and if I have not committed it, it is because God in
His mercy has not permitted it and has preserved me in goodness.”277
We should give God the glory for our not having fallen and say to Him
in the words of Scripture: “Create a clean heart in me, O God:
and renew a right spirit within my bowels.”278
“Convert me, and I shall be converted.”279
“Look Thou upon me, and have mercy on me; for I am alone and
poor.”280

St. Thomas says: “Since God’s love is the
cause of goodness in things, no one thing would be better than
another if God did not will greater good for one than for another.”281
“What hast thou that thou hast not received?”282
This truth leads the saints to say to themselves when they see a
criminal about to undergo the last punishment: “If this man had
received the same graces that I have been receiving for so many
years, he would perhaps have been less unfaithful than I. And if God
had permitted in my life the sins which He permitted in this man’s,
I would be in his place and he in mine.” “What hast thou
that thou hast not received?” This is the true basis of
Christian humility. All pride should break against these divine
words.

The humility of the saints thus becomes ever more
profound, for they experience increasingly their own frailty in
contrast with the majesty and the goodness of God. We should tend
toward this humility of the saints, but should not employ the
formulas they use so long as we are not profoundly convinced that
they are true. Should we do so, our humility would evidently be
false; in comparison with the true virtue, it is like a paste
diamond.

Humility toward our neighbor, thus defined by St.
Thomas, differs greatly from human respect and pusillanimity. Human
respect (timor mundanus) is the fear of the judgment and wrath of the
wicked; this fear turns us away from God. Pusillanimity refuses the
necessary toil; it flees the great things it should accomplish and
inclines toward base things. Humility, on the other hand, makes us
abase ourselves nobly before God and before what is of God in our
neighbor. The humble man does not abase himself before the power of
the wicked; thus he differs, says St. Thomas, from the ambitious man
who abases himself far more than he should to obtain what he desires,
and makes himself a lackey in order to attain power.

Humility does not flee great things; on the contrary
it strengthens magnanimity by making man tend humbly toward lofty
things. These two virtues, which support each other like the arches
of a vault, are complementary. They are magnificently presented to us
in our Lord when He says: “The Son of man is not come to be
ministered unto, but to minister [this is humility], and to give His
life a redemption for many [this is magnanimity with zeal for the
glory of God and the salvation of souls].”283
Our Savior could not tend to greater things and tend more humbly
toward them: He willed to give us eternal life by the way of the
humiliations of His passion and cross. Thus, all proportion being
kept, these two virtues, which in appearance are so contradictory,
are united in the saints. The humble John the Baptist did not fear
the anger of Herod when he reproved him for his immoral conduct; the
apostles in their humility did not fear the opposition of men; they
were magnanimous even to martyrdom. There is something similar in all
the saints, and the more humble they are, the stronger they are, the
less they fear human opinions, however formidable these may be. We
have an example of this courage in the humble and intrepid Vincent de
Paul facing Jansenist pride, which he recognized and denounced, in
order to preserve for souls the grace of frequent Communion.

Practically, what must we do to reach the perfection
of humility, without which we cannot have that of charity? Our
attitude toward praise and reproach is of great importance. In regard
to praise, we must not laud ourselves; by so doing we would soil
ourselves, as the Italian proverb says: “Chi si loda,
s’imbroda.” Men praise themselves when they think they
are not sufficiently praised by others. Furthermore, we must not seek
praise; should we do this, we would render ourselves ridiculous and
lose the merit of our good acts. Lastly, we should not take pleasure
in praise when it comes; to do so would be to lose, if not the merit
of our good actions, at least the flower of merit.

We must, however, mount still higher by acting as we
should in regard to reproaches. We must patiently accept deserved
reproaches, especially when they come from superiors who have the
right and the duty to make them. If we pout, we lose the benefit of
these just observations. It is also fitting that we accept patiently
at times a reproach that is only slightly deserved or undeserved.
Thus, while still a novice, St. Thomas was unjustly reproved for a
so­called mistake in Latin while reading in the refectory. He
corrected himself as he had been told to do; later at recreation his
brethren were astonished and said to him: “You were right. Why
did you correct yourself?” “It is better in the eyes of
God,” answered the saint, “to make a mistake in grammar
than to fail in obedience and humility.” Lastly, we would do
well to ask for a love of contempt, keeping in mind the examples of
the saints. When our Lord asked St: John of the Cross: “What do
you wish for a reward?” the saint replied: “To be scorned
and to suffer for love of Thee.” His prayer was granted a few
days later in the most painful manner; he as treated like an unworthy
religious in a scarcely credible fashion. Likewise St. Francis of
Assisi said to Brother Leo: “If when we arrive this evening at
the door of the convent, the brother porter does not wish to open the
door for us, if he takes us for thieves and receives us with blows
and leaves us outside all night in the rain and cold, then we must
say: Santa letizia, that is, what joy, O Lord, to suffer for Thee and
to become a little like Thee.” The saints reached even this
height.

St. Anselm admirably described the degrees of
humility: “(1) to acknowledge ourselves contemptible;(2) to
grieve on account of this;(3) to admit that we are so;(4) to wish our
neighbor to believe it;(5) patiently to endure people’s saying
it;(6) willingly to be treated as a person worthy of contempt;(7) to
love to be treated in this fashion.”284

These higher degrees are stated in all books of piety
but, as St. Teresa says: “The disposition to practice this (the
higher degrees of humility) must be, in my opinion, the gift of God;
for it seems to me a supernatural good.”285
They presuppose a certain infused contemplation of the humility of
the Savior crucified for us and the ardent desire to become like to
Him.

It is certainly fitting to tend to this lofty
perfection. Rare are they who attain it; but before reaching it, the
interior soul has many occasions to recall these words of Jesus,
which are so simple, profound, and truly imitable, all proportion
being kept: “The Son of man is not come to be ministered unto,
but to minister, and to give His life a redemption for many.”286
This is the deepest humility united to the loftiest grandeur of soul.

In our way we should also follow the Savior and
gradually be conformed to Him. For this reason we shall devote the
following chapter to a consideration of the humility of Jesus as the
eminent exemplar of ours.287

Chapter 13: The Humility of the Word Made Flesh and What Ours Should
Be

“Let
this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus: who . . .
emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant.”Phil. 2: 5–7

In studying humility, we should consider how it was
practiced by our Lord Himself, whose example we should follow, and
see how this abasement is united in Him to the highest virtues.

THE HUMILITY AND
MAGNANIMITY OF CHRIST

In the second chapter of his epistle to the
Philippians, St. Paul, wishing to exhort us to humility, speaks of
the infinite majesty of the Savior that we may better see to what an
extent He humbled Himself. The union of these two extremes is
amazing, and should be found to some extent in Christian perfection.

In this celebrated passage, St. Paul teaches clearly
the eternal preexistence of the divine person of Christ. He tells us:
“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus, who
being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with
God; but emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in
the likeness of men, and in habit found as a man. He humbled Himself,
becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross.”

“Being in the form of God . . .” The word
“form” in St. Paul’s text designates intimate,
fundamental, essential being; in this case, the nature of God. In
other words, although the only Son of the Father is truly God, “the
brightness of His glory, and the figure of His substance,” as
we read in the Epistle to the Hebrews,288
He did not eagerly retain His equality with God.

Lucifer, on the contrary, though only a creature,
wished to be equal to God and not to recognize in practice any master
superior to himself. In the error of his pride, he exclaimed: “I
will be like he Most High,”289
and in order to tempt us he tells us: “You shall be as gods.”290

Jesus, who is truly God, emptied Himself. St. Paul
here affirms the divinity of Christ as clearly as it is expressed in
the prologue to St. John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was
the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . The
only begotten Son who is in the bosom of the Father, He hath declared
Him.”291

“He emptied Himself.” How? He did not
lose His divine nature; He remained what He was, but He took or
assumed our poor human nature. In coming down from heaven, He did not
leave it, but He began to dwell on earth in the humblest condition.
In this sense He emptied Himself. Whereas the divine nature is the
infinite plenitude of all perfections, human nature is as if empty,
although it aspires to plenitude; the human intellect is at the
beginning like a blank page on which nothing is written. The only Son
of God emptied Himself, taking our human nature, which is infinitely
below the divine nature, and even below the purely spiritual nature
of the angels, even of the lowest among them.

“He took the form of a servant,” for man,
God’s creature, is the servant of the Most High. The only Son
of the Father therefore took in His divine person the nature of a
servant, the condition of a slave, so that one and the same person
might be the Son of God and the Son of man, that the same person
might be the only Son begotten from all eternity and the Infant in
the crib at Bethlehem and the Man of sorrows nailed to the cross.

“Being made in the likeness of men, and in
habit found as a man.” He wished to be rendered like His
brethren in all things, sin excepted; even more, He wished to be born
among the poor. He was cold and hungry, like a man of humble
condition. He was tired and worn out, as we are and more than we are.

St. Paul adds, penetrating far more deeply into this
mystery: “He humbled Himself, becoming obedient unto death.”
The God-man humbled Himself. We read in Ecclesiasticus: “The
greater thou art, the more humble thyself in all things, and thou
shalt find grace before God: for great is the power of God alone, and
He is honored by the humble.”292
For this reason Christ Himself tells us: “Learn of Me because I
am meek, and humble of heart.”293

The sign of humility is obedience. Pride, on the
contrary, inclines us to do our own will and to seek what exalts us,
not to wish to be directed by others, but to direct them. Obedience
is opposed to this pride. The only Son of the Father came down from
heaven to save us, to cure our pride, becoming obedient unto death,
and even to the death of the cross.

Obedience renders our acts and sufferings meritorious
to such an extent that, useless as they may appear, they may become
very fruitful. One of the marvels accomplished by our Savior is to
have rendered fruitful what was most useless, that is, suffering. He
glorified it by obedience and love. Obedience is great, heroic, when
man does not refuse death and does not flee ignominy. Now the death
of the Word made flesh was most ignominious. It was announced by the
Book of Wisdom, in the words of the impious directed against the wise
man par excellence: “Let us condemn him to the most shameful
death.”294
Death on the cross was considered precisely by the Romans and Jews as
an infamous and horrible torture reserved to slaves. We read in
Deuteronomy: “He is accursed of God that hangeth on a tree.”295
And St. Paul says to the Galatians: “Christ hath redeemed us
from the curse of the law [which is powerless to justify us], being,
made a curse for us; for it is written: ‘Cursed is everyone
that hangeth on a tree.’ “296This
abasement was necessary before Christ entered into His glory as
Redeemer.

Likewise in the Epistle to the Hebrews, St. Paul
speaks of “the reproach of Christ greater riches than the
treasure of the Egyptians.”297
Farther on, he says: “Jesus, the author and finisher of faith .
. . endured the cross, despising the shame, and now sitteth on the
right hand of the throne of God.”298

We can thus see how the cross of the Savior was “a
stumbling block” for the Jews.299
They had to believe that the wood of malediction became the
instrument of salvation, that He who was fastened to it, instead of
being accursed of God, was to become the source of every grace, the
object of love and adoration.300

All that St. Paul says is already contained in the
mystery of the nativity of the Lord, who came down from heaven for
our salvation, as the Credo states. The infant Jesus foresaw all
these painful and glorious events. As we read in the Epistle to the
Hebrews: “When He cometh into the world, He saith: ‘Sacrifice
and oblation [of the Old Law] Thou wouldst not; but a body Thou hast
fitted to Me. . . . Then said I: Behold, I come to do Thy will, O
God.’ “301This
heroic example of humble obedience should be always before our eyes.

The liturgy of Christmas continually recalls this
example by contrasting the humility and the majesty of our Savior:

And in the office for Christmas we read these words
of Pope St. Leo: “The two natures, divine and human, without
losing their properties, are united in a single person; humility is
sustained by majesty, weakness by power, mortality by eternity. If
the Savior were not truly God, He would not bring the remedy; and if
He were not truly man, He would not be an example for us.”

In the nativity of Jesus everything speaks to us of
His humility. We read in St. Luke: “She brought forth her
first-born Son, and wrapped Him up in swaddling clothes, and laid Him
in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”302
There was no room for the Word of God made flesh; a fact we must not
forget when there is no room for us. The first adorers were poor
shepherds “watching, and keeping the night-watches over their
flock” But a multitude of angels descended from heaven singing:
“Glory to God in the highest; and on earth peace to men of good
will”303

The two extremes are united: “The Word was made
flesh.” It is the joining of supreme riches and perfect poverty
to give men redemption and peace. It is impossible to conceive a more
intimate union of a more profound humility and a more lofty dignity.
The two infinitely distant extremes are intimately united; God alone
could do it. It is not only beautiful, it is sublime, an extreme
elevation in the order of the spiritually beautiful. It is what makes
the grandeur of Christ’s physiognomy. He always tends toward
very great things, worthy of the greatest honor, but He tends to them
most humbly with full submission to the will of His Father and
acceptance in advance of all the humiliations of the Passion and
cross, which He foresees from His infancy. He exemplifies the closest
union of perfect humility and loftiest magnanimity.

THE UNION OF HUMILITY AND
CHRISTIAN DIGNITY

In what regard must we imitate Christ in the union of
humility and Christian dignity? How can we harmonize these two
extremes in our lives: a humility which should always grow and the
keen desire for perfection and union with God? On the one hand, the
Lord tells us to abase ourselves, so much so that we cannot humble
ourselves too greatly, and on the other hand, we read in Scripture:
“Be ye also perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

How can we harmonize “this abasement which is
demanded of us, with the ardent desire for our progress? Souls fear
to fail in humility by aspiring to a union with God of which they
feel unworthy. The Jansenists went so far as to say that out of
humility one should only rarely receive Communion. This practical
difficulty exists especially, it is true, for souls that have lost
the superior simplicity which comes from grace; but it may exist for
us when we have to distinguish between true and false humility in
ourselves. We experience it particularly when we must defend our way
of living against that of others. At the beginning of the discussion
we may speak solely for love of truth, but if we are constrained,
often we reply with the impatience and pride of wounded self-love.

The simplest souls find the solution of this problem
in rereading what Scripture says about the union of these two
extremes: “Whosoever, therefore, shall humble himself as this
little child, he is the greater in the kingdom of heaven.”304
“Be you humbled therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He
may exalt you in the time of visitation: casting all your care upon
Him for He hath care of you.”305
“Be humbled in the sight of the Lord, and He will exalt you.”306
“The Lord killeth and maketh alive, He bringeth down to hell
and bringeth back again. The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich, He
humbleth and He exalteth.”307

The union of deep humility and supernatural
magnanimity is particularly mysterious in the saints. In this respect
they reproduce the life of the Savior, while remaining far from His
perfection. This point must be emphasized, for in it is a great
lesson for us. On the one hand, the saints declare that they are the
least of men because of their infidelity to grace, and on the other
hand they have a superhuman dignity. For example, St. Paul says of
himself: “He rose again the third day . . . and was seen by
Cephas, and after that by the eleven. Then he was seen by more than
five hundred brethren at once . . . and last of all He was seen also
by me as by one born out of due time. For I am the least of the
apostles, who am not worthy to be called an apostle, because I
persecuted the Church of God.”308
He even speaks of the infirmities that humiliate him and oblige him
to pray God to come to his relief.309

On the other hand, when St. Paul had to defend his
ministry against false apostles, he wrote with magnanimity: “They
are Hebrews: so am I. . . . They are the ministers of Christ (I speak
as one less wise): I am more; in many more labors, in prisons more
frequently, in stripes above measure, in deaths often. . . . Thrice
was I beaten with rods, once I was stoned.”310
He enumerates his labors, his cares; he even speaks of the visions
and revelations he received from God. But finally, reverting to a
deeper humility he writes: “And lest the greatness of the
revelations should exalt me, there was given me a sting of my flesh,
an angel of Satan, to buffet me [that I might not become proud]. For
which thing thrice I be sought the Lord that it might depart from me.
And He said to me: ‘My grace is sufficient for thee; for power
is made perfect in infirmity.’ Gladly therefore will I glory in
my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”311

In his commentary on this chapter of the Second
Epistle to the Corinthians, St. Thomas speaks admirably of the union
of humility and magnanimity in St. Paul. He writes as follows: “As
charity is the root of the virtues, pride is the beginning of every
sin.312
It is the inordinate desire of our own excellence: we desire it then
without subordinating it to God. Thus we turn away from Him, which is
the beginning of every sin; for this reason God resists the proud.313
As there is in good people the good of which they may become proud,
God sometimes permits some infirmity in His elect, some defect, and
occasionally a mortal sin, which prevents them from becoming proud,
which truly humiliates them, and makes them recognize that they
cannot hold out or persevere by their own strength. The apostle St.
Paul in particular might have grown proud of many things: he was a
vessel of election to carry the faith to the Gentiles;314
he had been ravished to the third heaven and heard secret words,
which it is not granted to man to utter;315
he had suffered greatly for Christ, several times he had been cast
into prison, and scourged; he was a virgin (having obtained mercy of
the Lord to be faithful);316
he had labored more than all, as he says;317
and in particular he had a lofty knowledge of divine things which may
be the source of pride. For this reason the Lord gave him a remedy
for pride. That the excellence of the revelations made to him might
not make him proud, he received a sting in the flesh, a humiliating
infirmity which crucified his body in order to heal his soul. . . .
As he says, an angel of Satan came and buffeted him. How the sinner
should tremble if the great Apostle, the instrument of election, is
not sure of himself! Three times he ardently begged the Lord to
deliver him from this sting; three times, that is, often and
urgently. He then heard these words: ‘My grace is sufficient
for thee,’ it will preserve thee from sin. Divine power is
shown in weakness, which is an occasion for the exercise of the
virtues of humility, patience, and abnegation. The man who knows his
weakness is more attentive to resisting it and, because he struggles,
he grows in strength. ‘Gladly therefore will I glory in my
infirmities,’ says St. Paul, since I am thus more humble, and I
must fight that the power of Christ may dwell in me and bear all its
fruits of grace.”318

Something similar occurred in the life of St. Peter,
who was humiliated because he denied our Lord during the Passion.
Peter thus lost all presumption and placed his confidence no longer
in himself, but in God alone.

The principle of the harmonizing of humility and
Christian magnanimity is expressed in these words of St. Paul: “We
have this treasure [of divine truth] in earthen vessels, that the
excellency may be of the power of God and not of us.”319
One of the most beautiful formulas of the harmonizing of humility and
magnanimity is the following, taken from the works of St. Thomas:
“The servant of God should always consider himself a beginner
and always tend toward a more perfect and holy life without ever
stopping.”320

Thus in the great saints humility and magnanimity are
harmonized; they tend toward great things in the midst of trials and
humiliations. There is, however, always an immense difference between
them and the Savior; Christ who was most humble is sinless, without
the slightest fault to deplore, most humble in His absolute
impeccability and His sovereign dignity.

In the Blessed Virgin Mary, due proportion being
kept, there is something similar. She was preserved from every sin,
and in her Magnificat she appears at one and the same time very
humble and very great, terrible to the demon: “My soul doth
magnify the Lord. . . . He hath regarded the humility of His
handmaid; for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me
blessed. Because He that is mighty hath done great things to me. . .
. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the
humble.”321

Something analogous appears also for our consolation
in the life of the Church, the spouse of Christ. Throughout its
history Christ’s words are verified: “Everyone that
exalteth himself, shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself
shall be exalted.”322
Christ made this statement when He spoke of the guests who took the
first places, and again in the parable of the Pharisee and the
publican.323
In persecutions the Church often seems conquered; yet it is always
victorious. In its humility it tends toward the great things which
are the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

Lastly, there should be something similar in every
Christian, especially in every religious. He must be truly humble
like a root hidden under the ground, and he should always tend toward
these great things, a more living faith, a more firm hope, a more
ardent charity, a union with God that is daily more intimate, pure,
and strong. Thus extremes are harmonized, like the deep root of the
tree which symbolizes humility and the loftiest branch which is the
figure of charity. All the virtues are connected and grow together,
just as the root buries itself ever deeper in the soil, while the
tallest branch reaches up toward heaven.

Thus in the mystical body of the Savior should be
realized what St. Leo said of Christ Himself: “Humility is
sustained by majesty, weakness by strength, mortality by eternity.”
Gradually in the mystical body of Christ “that which is mortal,
may be swallowed up by life.”324
“For this corruptible must put on incorruption,”325
that the mystery of the redemption may be accomplished, that the
incarnate Word may apply to us the fruit of His merits and be
actually and fully the Author of salvation.

What majesty there is in the title Salutis auctor!
And how well united it is with these words: “Learn of Me,
because I am meek, and humble of heart: and you shall find rest to
your souls.”326
May the Savior grant us the grace to become like to Him. We have no
true humility except that which He gives us; therefore we must
sincerely beg it of Him and accept the road which leads to it.

APPENDIX: THE GLORY OF
THE CROSS

“He
humbled Himself . . . even to the death of the cross. For which cause
God also hath exalted Him, and hath given Him a name which is above
all names.”Phil. 2:8 f.

(We reproduce here a manuscript that has come into
our possession, and have added some explanatory notes. It is a
meditation on the glory of Christ in relation to the depth of His
humiliations and sufferings.)

“For God so loved the world, as to give His
only begotten Son.”327
In the great mystery of the Incarnation, the mystery of ineffable
love, there is a core which is impenetrable to human reason, a secret
which God alone reveals: the reason for the immense sufferings of the
redemptive Passion.

If, in the presence of the crucifix, each Christian
can say: “Jesus crucified, pledge of the love of my Father,”
not one is capable of telling the reason which motivated the decree
of the Passion and death of the Son of God. This decree is the secret
of divine love.328

We adore the excesses of humiliation, the
indescribable ignominies to which the incarnate Word subjected
Himself in obedience to His Father and through love of men, His
brethren, but we cannot explain these excesses, this ocean of
sufferings, until the Lord Himself lifts the veil covering this “holy
of holies.” Then the mystery still remains a mystery, but the
soul, enlightened regarding its secret, contemplates in ecstasy the
ineffable harmonies of the divine masterpiece: the glory of the
redemptive cross.

The words of holy Scripture: “I will not give
My glory to another,”329
sum up what is hidden in this secret of the passion and death of
Christ Jesus, and contain at the same time the marvelous harmony of
all the divine words.

From all eternity God willed the Incarnation of the
Word, His Son, as Redeemer of the world and head of redeemed
humanity. In our Lord Jesus Christ [habitual] grace has for its
principal end the most eminent union that God can grant to a created
nature, that is, the hypostatic union, by which the Son of Mary,
while enjoying the beatific vision from the moment of His
incarnation, could affirm:”The Father and I are one.”
This grace was given to Jesus Christ for the end which determined His
coming to earth: this end is no other than the satisfaction which, as
head of His mystical body, He was to offer to the thrice holy God.

However, by reason of the infinite dignity of the
person of the Word, a single drop of the blood of our Lord Jesus
Christ would have sufficed to redeem a thousand worlds, did they
exist. Therefore, not in the necessity of redeeming sinful humanity
should we seek the motive for the excesses of the most holy passion
and death of Christ. Let us seek it, rather, in the splendors of the
glory of the Incarnation (or of the manifestation of the radiating
goodness of the Savior), because it is there that we shall find it.
The essential glory of God, the incommunicable and essential glory of
the adorable Trinity became in the mystery of the Incarnation the
magnificent portion of the sacred humanity of Jesus, as the Eagle of
the Evangelists says in the prologue to his Gospel: “And the
Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we saw His glory, the
glory as It were of the only begotten of the Father), full of grace
and truth.”330

The excesses of the sorrow and humiliation of the
passion and death of our Lord were the compensation demanded by
divine wisdom, which does all things with weight and measure, in
exchange for the ineffable glory which the God-man would enjoy
eternally.331
“I will not give My glory to another.” Yahve had spoken
through His prophet, and these words were not belied, not even in
favor of the incarnate Word, since by His passion and death our Lord
Jesus Christ not only snatched the entire world from the domination
of Satan and death, but in addition He won for His most sacred
humanity the right to be enthroned in the eternal tabernacles at the
right hand of the Father. Our Lord alluded to the necessity of
conquering this right332
on the evening of His resurrection when He said to the disciples of
Emmaus: “O foolish, and slow of heart to believe in all things
which the prophets have spoken. Ought not Christ to have suffered
these things, and so to enter into His glory?”333
In fact, the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ is admirable,
indescribable, since it is the glory of the only Son of the Father,
and as such this glory exceeds the capacity of comprehension of human
and angelic intellects; only God Himself can fully appreciate it,
since He alone knows Himself perfectly.

Although the glory of the only Son is ineffable, a
Gospel text gives us a little light on the subject: “He that
believeth in Me, as the Scripture saith, Out of his belly shall flow
rivers of living water.”334
Jesus spoke this to all in a loud voice on the feast of tabernacles.
And the Evangelist St. John adds: “This He said of the Spirit
which they should receive who believed in Him.” To give the
Holy Ghost to souls is the glory of the risen Christ, a glory that is
unique, ineffable. Sacred Scripture continues: “For as yet the
Spirit was not given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”335
The Holy Ghost will be given on Pentecost when, through the
humiliations of His passion and death, the Lord Jesus will enter into
His glory because “he that humbleth himself, shall be
exalted.”336

And who has ever humbled himself like the Pontiff of
the New Law, Christ our Lord? Consequently, in justice no one ever
was or ever will be as exalted as He: “He humbled Himself,
becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross. For
which cause God also hath exalted Him and hath given Him a name which
is above all names: that in the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
of those that are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth: and that
every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the
glory of God the Father.”337O gloria crucis.338

The pages just quoted throw special light on the
Savior’s humiliations, the dark night of His passion, and also
on the night through which the saints must pass. This manuscript
enables us to understand better what St. John of the Cross wrote
about the night of the soul, and the reparatory sufferings which
great servants of God like St. Paul of the Cross have had to bear. It
is a well-known fact that having been raised to the transforming
union at the age of thirty-one, St. Paul of the Cross spent
forty-five years in continual and most profound interior sufferings
for the salvation of sinners. He was closely configured to Jesus
crucified: the depths, the duration, the continuity of his sufferings
were proportioned to the “eternal weight of glory,” to
use the expression of St. Paul, which he was to receive in heaven.

Thus we see the elevation of the infused virtues and
what the progress of humility should be in proficients and the
perfect: “He that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”339

Chapter 14: The Spirit of Poverty

“Blessed
are the poor in spirit.”Matt. 5: 3

Since we have treated of humility and meekness, it is
fitting that we consider the virtues corresponding to the evangelical
counsels. As we have already spoken of virginity in connection with
chastity, it remains for us to explain how poverty and obedience
cooperate in Christian perfection.

To attain perfection, man must practice the three
counsels effectively: in other words, in the use of legitimate goods
it is expedient that he retrench before reaching the limit of what is
permitted, that he may not be led into excess. The effective practice
of the three counsels, as we have seen,340
is a road leading more easily, rapidly, and surely to perfection,
which is reached in this way more often in the religious life than in
the married state. However, Christian perfection does not consist
essentially in the practice of the counsels; it is chiefly in
charity.341
Moreover, to reach perfection, one must have at least the spirit of
the counsels, which is the spirit of detachment, as St. Paul says:
“The time is short. It remaineth that they also who have wives
be as if they had none; . . . and they that buy, as though they
possessed not; and they that use this world, as if they used it not.
For the fashion of this world passeth away.”342

We shall discuss, first of all, the spirit of
poverty, recommended to all by our Lord when He said: “Blessed
are the poor in spirit.”

THE VALUE OF VOLUNTARY
POVERTY

The meaning of this evangelical beatitude is as
follows: blessed are they who have not the spirit of wealth, its
pomp, pride, insatiable avidity; but who have the spirit of poverty
and are humble. Christ says: “For theirs is the kingdom of
heaven”; not only will it be theirs later on, but in a sense it
is theirs even now.

Voluntary poverty can be practiced either in the
midst of the abundance of worldly goods, when the spirit is not
attached to them, or in destitution when one bears it generously for
love of God. The value of voluntary poverty may even appear to those
who have not faith, because they see the disorders which arise from
cupidity, the concupiscence of the eyes, the desire of riches,
avarice, the excesses of capitalism, and the forgetfulness of the
poor who are dying of hunger.

We must begin to detach ourselves from earthly goods
in order to grasp clearly the following truth often uttered by St.
Augustine and St. Thomas: “Contrary to spiritual goods,
material goods divide men, because they cannot belong simultaneously
and integrally to a number.”343
A number of persons cannot possess integrally and simultaneously the
same house, the same field, the same territory; whence dissensions,
quarrels, lawsuits, wars. On the contrary, spiritual goods, like
truth, virtue, God Himself, can belong simultaneously and integrally
to a number; many may possess simultaneously the same virtue, the
same truth, the same God who gives Himself wholly to each of us in
Communion.

Therefore, whereas the unbridled search for material
goods profoundly divides men, the quest for spiritual goods unites
them. It unites us so much the more closely, the more we seek these
superior goods. And we even possess God so much the more, the more we
give Him to others. When we give away money, we no longer possess it;
when, on the contrary, we give God to souls, we do not lose Him;
rather we possess Him more. And should we refuse to give Him to a
person who asks for Him, we would lose Him.

Consequently to combat cupidity, the concupiscence of
the eyes, the desire of riches, avarice, and the forgetfulness of the
poor, our Lord counseled voluntary poverty, or detachment in regard
to earthly goods which divide men. Christ leads us thus to desire
keenly spiritual goods, which unite men.

The spirit of detachment is even necessary for the
Christian that he may clearly understand the true meaning of the
right of individual ownership instead of infringing on this right,
which is often forgotten; interior souls should have a profound
knowledge of it. As St. Thomas shows, the right of ownership is the
right to acquire and to administer material goods; but in regard to
their use, they must be given readily to those who are in need.344

St. Paul says: “Charge the rich of this world
not to be high-minded nor to trust in the uncertainty of riches, but
in the living God, who giveth us abundantly all things to enjoy: to
do good, to be rich in good works, to give easily, to communicate to
others, to lay up in store for themselves a good foundation against
the time to come, that they may lay hold on the true life.”345

Such is the spirit of detachment; it should remind
all of us of what St. Thomas says elsewhere: namely, that if a poor
man in a case of extreme necessity asks for a piece of bread and is
refused, he may take it, and not be guilty of theft. He has a right
to it in order not to die of hunger. A man’s life is clearly
worth more than a piece of bread which we have not the right to
retain jealously if one of our brothers is in absolute need of it.

It is a precept that a man should give alms from his
superfluity that he may aid him who is in grave necessity.346
What has been said of a piece of bread should be said of clothing and
necessary shelter. There must be a return to the spirit of
evangelical poverty in order to combat today the abuses of capitalism
which exasperate the laborer who is out of work and unable to feed
his children. Scripture tells us: “Whilst the wicked man is
proud, the poor is set on fire.”347
The rich man, far from being a monopolist, should administer the
goods given by God in such a way that the poor profit in regard to
what is necessary. Then man no longer lives under the reign of
covetousness and jealousy, but under the dominion of God.348

It is fitting today to recall these elementary truths
even when speaking of the progress of the interior life, for the
grave disturbances and perils of modern society require that we
consider these truths from a higher point of view and that we put
them into practice with a great spirit of faith and detachment. This
is the true remedy for two extreme deviations which are mutually
contradictory: the abuses of capitalism and the excesses of
communism, two contrary disorders springing from a materialistic
conception of human life and from forgetfulness of the Gospel.349
The value of voluntary poverty is brought out by these very
disorders, which are disturbingly serious.

The value of detachment appears in a more positive
way when we remember the true goods we should ardently desire. Christ
tells all of us what they are, and interior souls should have a
deeper understanding of His teaching: “Be not solicitous for
your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put
on. Is not the life more than the meat, and the body more than the
raiment? Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do
they reap, . . . and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you
of much more value than they? Seek ye therefore first the kingdom of
God and His justice, and all these things shall be added unto you. Be
not therefore solicitous for tomorrow; for the morrow will be
solicitous for itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.”350

The spirit of detachment thus leads us to a stronger
desire for the goods of heaven and to reliance on the help of God to
reach the end of the journey. Voluntary poverty and confidence in God
go hand in hand; the more detached man is from earthly goods, the
more he desires those of heaven; and the less he relies on human
helps, the more he places his confidence in God’s help. Thus
confidence in God is the soul of holy poverty. All Christians should
have the spirit of this counsel.

Since we are considering the effective practice of
voluntary poverty, let us recall the answer our Lord gave to the rich
young man who wished to know the surest road to perfection. Christ
answered him: “Go, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the
poor; and thou shalt have treasure in heaven. And come, follow Me.
Who being struck sad at that saying, went away sorrowful, for he had
great possessions.”351
He preferred to keep them rather than to follow our Lord and win
souls, rather than to become a “fisher of men” like the
apostles.

The effective practice of voluntary poverty is of
counsel; it is not obligatory; but to be perfect one must have at
least the spirit of the counsel, the spirit of detachment in the
midst even of riches, if one keeps them.

St. Francis de Sales352
develops this teaching, saying that voluntary poverty is a great
good, but one which is little known; that it is a principle of
happiness; that it must be observed in the midst of wealth and also
in real poverty, if we should happen to lose everything.

Now if you
love the poor, be often in their company, be glad to see them in your
house, and to visit them in theirs. Converse willingly with them, be
pleased to have them near you in the church, in the streets, and
elsewhere. . . . Make yourself then a servant of the poor: go and
serve them in their beds when they are sick . . . at your own
expense. . . . This service is more glorious than a kingdom. . . .
St. Louis frequently served at table the poor whom he supported, and
caused three poor men to dine with him almost every day, and many
times ate the remainder of their food with an incomparable love. When
he visited the hospitals, . . . he commonly served . . . such as had
the most loathsome diseases, kneeling on the ground, respecting in
their persons the Savior of the world. . . . St. Elizabeth, daughter
of the King of Hungary, often visited the poor. . . . But should you
meet with losses which impoverish you . . . as in the case of
tempests, fires, inundations, . . . lawsuits, then is the proper
season to practice poverty . . . with meekness . . . and patience.353

St. Francis de Sales adds that truly Christian
poverty should be gay, and that he who has chosen it should not seek
his comfort, but should suffer some discomforts for the love of God;
otherwise, how would this virtue be for him a means of union with
God? The examples of St. Francis of Assisi, St. Dominic, and St.
Benedict Joseph Labre, show us to what close union with God this
virtue can lead us when practiced for love of God.

THE FRUITFULNESS OF
VOLUNTARY POVERTY

St. Thomas354
tells us that Christ willed to be poor for four reasons: (1) because
voluntary poverty is fitting for the preacher, who should be freed
from the care of earthly goods;(2) because He wished to show that He
desires only the salvation of souls;(3) that He might lead us to
desire especially eternal goods;(4) that divine power which saves
souls might stand forth more clearly in the absence of human helps.
This is also the reason why Christ chose poor fishermen of Galilee as
His apostles. Thus is demonstrated the fruitfulness of voluntary
poverty; it is the hundredfold promised by Christ.

In the first place, the spirit of poverty frees us
from excessive preoccupation about exterior goods, which are then no
longer an obstacle in our progress toward God, but a means of doing
good. Thus delivered, the Christian may run the way of perfection; he
no longer thinks of settling down on earth as if he were to remain
there always, for he understands that he is there only temporarily.
He is no longer embarrassed, as it were, by useless baggage in his
journey toward eternity; aware of being a traveler, a viator, he
aspires to reach his last end without delay. His pace is even
quickened, becomes ever more rapid, because he is always more drawn
by the last end in proportion as he approaches it.

In the second place, voluntary poverty is a sign of
disinterestedness, particularly necessary for an apostle; for it
should be evident he has no interest but that of winning souls for
our Lord, as St. Dominic told the prelates who arrived in Languedoc
with a whole suite to preach the Gospel to people seduced by the
errors of the Albigenses. These prelates understood then that they
should preach first by example, by true detachment; and they sent
away their retinue.

In the third place, voluntary poverty is materially
fruitful in a degree that sometimes borders on the miraculous. To see
this fact, one need only visit certain convents dedicated to the care
of the poor, such as the homes of the Little Sisters of the Poor, or
the piccola casa of St. Joseph Cottolengo in Turin, “a little
house” which shelters ten thousand indigent sick, and which
subsists only on the alms received from day to day. It is like a
perpetual miracle worked by divine Providence in response to the
trust of the holy founder and his sons, who understood the profound
meaning of Christ’s words: “Seek ye therefore first the
kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things shall be added
unto you.”355
These servants of the poor live by the supernatural contemplation of
this truth and by its practice.

Fourthly, more admirable still is the spiritual
fruitfulness of the spirit of poverty. It teaches us patience,
humility, detachment in regard to higher goods, to all that is not
God and the love of God, that is, in respect to the goods of the
intellect, of the heart, and of certain goods of the soul.

The goods of the intellect are our knowledge, our
talents if we have any. In study we must know how to avoid curiosity,
vainglory, useless natural eagerness; how to place this study truly
at the service of God, detaching ourselves from our own lights, from
our excessively personal views. If we do this, the Lord will in this
case also give us the hundredfold: a superior simplicity, that of
true contemplation, which forgets itself in order to lose itself in
its object. St. Albert the Great practiced this spirit of poverty in
respect to the immense learning he had acquired. He was told that he
would lose the use of his memory; this took place, and during the
rather long period of life that was left to him, he remained as if
completely absorbed in the contemplation of God. In place of the
acquired learning that he had lost, he received a very superior
treasure, a lofty degree of infused contemplation that he might live
most profoundly by the mysteries of salvation.

The goods of the heart are our affections, and also
the affection full of esteem and confidence that others show us. We
must live in a certain detachment in regard even to these goods that
we may not fall into sentimentalism. We must not cling to being
loved, esteemed; we must also consecrate our legitimate affections to
God, placing them under the influx of true charity, which will reveal
to us what a treasure is a truly supernatural friendship that is
wholly generous. It is a great gift of God, which He occasionally
grants to those who have renounced all.

Finally, the spirit of poverty also teaches us to
practice detachment from certain goods of the soul, that is,
spiritual consolations. They must certainly not be sought for
themselves; were this done, they would cease to be a means of
progress toward God and would become an obstacle. We must consent to
be weaned from them when the Lord judges it to be for our good.
Following the advice of St. Grignion de Montfort, many interior souls
strip themselves of all that is communicable to others in their
prayers and good works and entrust it to the Blessed Virgin that she
may use it to the best advantage of souls on earth or in purgatory in
greatest need of it. By this denudation the Christian prepares
himself for a higher spiritual poverty, which is a great gift of God
and recalls the destitution of Christ on the cross, abandoned by His
people, by many of His own, and to all appearances abandoned by His
Father. Interior souls find this higher spiritual poverty in the last
purification which St. John of the Cross calls the dark night of the
soul. Victim souls experience more profoundly than others this
absolute stripping of themselves and this immolation which configures
them to Christ that they may obtain the salvation of sinners.

Thus, in different degrees, the spirit of poverty and
still more voluntary poverty effectively practiced for love of God,
enrich the Christian while stripping him and obtain the hundredfold
for him. Such is the lofty meaning of the evangelical beatitude:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven.”

THE MERIT OF THE VOWS

With St. Thomas356
we must add that it is more meritorious to perform a good act with a
vow than without, and this for three reasons: (1) because the vow is
an act of the virtue of religion, or of the worship of latria.
This virtue is the most noble of the moral virtues; hence it renders
more meritorious the acts of poverty, chastity, and obedience which
it inspires, commands, and offers to God as a holocaust.

Moreover, charity itself inspires the vow; it is made
out of love and is a true testimony of love that is at times highly
meritorious. If anyone greatly loves another, he places himself at
the other’s service out of affection. Thus the soul that wishes
to love God greatly places itself forever at His service out of love,
binding itself to Him by a vow. It has been objected that he who is
already closely united to God through charity, the highest of the
virtues, does not find an additional perfection in binding himself to
God by a vow. If he is already a friend, he does not have to become a
servant; so much so that our Lord said: “I will not now call
you servants. . . . But I have called you friends.” The answer
to this objection is that he who loves God finds an additional
perfection in placing himself through love at God’s service for
his entire life.357

St. Thomas adds two other reasons:(2) he who promises
God a succession of good works and accomplishes them subjects himself
more to God than if he accomplished them without having promised
them. Thus he who gives the tree and its fruits offers more than if
he offered only the fruits while retaining possession of the tree.(3)
Lastly, by the vow the will is immutably fixed in the good, which is
an additional perfection.

Consequently it is evident that the vows of religion,
especially perpetual and solemn vows, add to the acts of poverty,
chastity, and obedience, an additional merit, that of the virtue of
religion, which is itself offered to God as worship by charity that
inspires all the other virtues. The soul consecrated to the Lord thus
belongs more intimately to Him.

Chapter 15: The Grandeur of Obedience

Obedience is the highest of the three evangelical
counsels, just as the pride of life is in itself a graver disorder
than the concupiscence of the flesh and that of the eyes. Pride,
which was the sin of the rebellious angel and of the first man, is
the source of all deviations because it turns us away from God to put
our trust in ourselves. In this sense it is a more serious sin than
other more shameful sins which incline us toward vile things, but
which turn us less directly away from God.358
Cold, hard pride, which leads man to refuse to adhere to the word of
God or to obey Him, is a more serious sin than inordinate attachment
to the pleasures of the senses or to earthly goods. For this reason
Christ said to the Pharisees who were led astray by their pride:
“Amen I say to you, that the publicans and the harlots shall go
into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way
of justice, and you did not believe him. But the publicans and the
harlots believed him: but you, seeing it, did not even afterwards
repent, that you might believe him.”359

We know these things theoretically, but in practice
we forget them. We think more readily of the manifest disorders which
arise from the concupiscence of the flesh or from that of the eyes,
and we do not adequately recognize that the great sin is the sin of
him who said: “Non serviam, I will not serve.” This is
the principal sin of the world that calls itself “modern,”
while claiming to separate itself from the Church. It still desires
indeed to repress gross instincts, to struggle against avarice, to
labor for the amelioration of the lot of the working class, but it
intends to do all this by itself, without the help of God, of our
Lord, and of the Church. Only too often it wishes to obey only its
own reason, its own judgment, its own will, and this rationalism
leads it to disobey reason rather than to obey God. Its own reason
leads it, like the prodigal son, into dishonorable, debasing
servitude, occasionally into real tyranny, that of rebellious popular
passions and that of criminal, unjust laws, put into effect in spite
of the protests of conscience, in the interest of the party in power.
Obedience to the commandments of God and of the Church would free
society from these servitudes which oppress the best and lead society
into disorder, confusion, and ruin. Such an evil can be cured only by
a holy reaction in the direction of profound, humble, Christian
obedience. Yet the grandeur of obedience, even in relatively good
circles, is too often misunderstood.360

The better to see the value of this virtue, we shall
consider first of all from what servitude it delivers us and what are
its spiritual fruits with regard to union with God.

THE TYPE OF SERVITUDE
FROM WHICH OBEDIENCE DELIVERS US

Obedience delivers us from a twofold slavery: that of
self-will and that of our own judgment.

Obedience to God, to His spiritual and temporal
representatives, daily assures the conformity of our will with the
divine will,361
It thus delivers us from self-will, that is, from a will which is not
conformed to that of God, and which through pride goes astray, acting
contrary to the current of grace and refusing to act in the true
direction.

Self-will thus defined is the source of every sin.
For this reason St. Bernard says: “Take away self-will, and
there will no longer be any hell.” Self-will is particularly
dangerous because it can corrupt everything. Even what is best in man
becomes evil when self-will enters in, for it takes itself as its end
instead of subordinating itself to God. If the Lord sees that it
inspires a fast, a penance, a sacrifice, He rejects them as
Pharisaical works accomplished through pride in order to make oneself
esteemed. Without going that far, we must admit that we cling greatly
to our own will. Occasionally we hold to our way of doing good more
than to the good itself; we wish it to be done, but by ourselves and
in our way. When this egoism becomes collective, it may be called
esprit de corps, a corruption of family spirit; it is the source of a
great many unpleasantnesses, partialities, defamations. Sometimes a
certain group wishes to promote a good work, or it hinders one from
being developed. It is like wishing to smother a child who seems to
be one too many, when as a matter of fact it may become the honor of
the family. Evidently such a course of action can only displease the
Lord.

In religion, the vow of obedience assures the
mortification of this dangerous self-will which turns the soul away
from salvation. That it may control self-will, the vow must be
practiced with a spirit of faith, seeing in the orders of superiors,
in spite of their imperfections or defects, orders given by God, from
whom all power comes. Religious obedience should be prompt and
universal: that is, it should extend alike to little and great
things; it should obey all legitimate superiors, whether they be
amiable or not, particularly prudent or less enlightened, holy or
less perfect, because it is always God who speaks, as long as the
order given is not contrary to a higher law and does not exceed the
limits of the constitutions which the religious promised to observe.
Such obedience is a deliverance, for it assures from day to day the
conformity of man’s will with God’s will, and by that
very fact it greatly fortifies the will while rectifying it.

Obedience delivers us also from the servitude of our
own judgment, that is, from an excessively subjective judgment not
sufficiently founded on truth, not conformed to the judgment of God.
Our own personal judgment is in this sense the source of singularity
in conduct and stubbornness which leads to nothing and impedes the
good which others wish to do. It is a hasty judgment springing from
our prejudices, our evil dispositions, our self-love, our pride.
Occasionally the enemy of our soul is the one who suggests it to us
or confirms it when we ourselves have already formed it. Following
Aristotle, St. Thomas often says: “According as we are well or
ill disposed in our will and sensible faculties, a given end seems
good or evil to us.” The proud man judges that what flatters
his pride is excellent, whereas the humble man judges that
humiliation is good for him.

Our own judgment often leads to rash judgment,
contrary to justice and charity. In it there is servitude, slavery;
we are the slaves of our egoistic prejudices, and they lead us away
from salvation and union with God.

Obedience delivers us from this slavery by assuring
the conformity of our practical judgment with that of the
representative of God, who has the right to give us an order in His
name.362
It may be that this representative of God is mistaken on some point
or other; he is not infallible like the pope speaking ex cathedra,
but as long as the order given is not manifestly contrary to a higher
law and does not exceed the powers of the one who commands, we are
obliged to obey, and our practical judgment is not deceived in
obeying. Sometimes the messenger of Providence may limp, but he is
still God’s messenger; he brings us a letter or an order of
divine origin.

The effective practice of the counsel of obedience is
found especially in the religious life; it is a much surer road for
reaching perfection more rapidly by progressive conformity to the
will of God even in the depths of our will and the details of daily
life.

But we must at least have the spirit of the counsel
actually to reach Christian perfection, that is, the spirit of
detachment from self-will to which we cling. As a child should obey
his father, his mother, and the teachers who train him, every
Christian should obey all who are for him the spiritual or temporal
representatives of God. There is the obedience of the wife to her
husband, that of the soldier to his leaders, of the servant to his
master, of every subordinate to his superiors, of every Christian to
the Church and to the constituted authorities in the Church. If this
obedience is practiced, not merely in a servile, mechanical, exterior
manner, but in the spirit of faith, it greatly forms the will,
renders it flexible, and fortifies it while subordinating it daily a
little better to the will of God, of the living God who vivifies us.
It is well to recall often that “there is no power but from
God,”363
that one cannot obey an equal, but only a superior, and that, in
short, it is God who is obeyed.

Similarly we must obey events so far as they are
signs of the divine will. Theology teaches that the divine will is
manifested to us not only by the precepts and the counsels, but also
by events willed or at least permitted by God.364
Nothing, in fact, happens unless God has willed it (if it is a good),
or permitted it (if it is an evil). To be perfect our obedience
should take into consideration these signs of the will of God. For
example, legitimate success in an examination gives us a position
that makes possible for us the accomplishment of a more extended
good; let us not compromise this good by imprudent or cowardly acts.
On the contrary, we are humiliated by a failure, or by an illness,
which sometimes show us that the way we are engaged in is not what
God wishes for us.

There are particularly significant events which, from
the temporal point of view, change the situation of a family or the
organization of society. We must know how to draw the greatest
spiritual profit from them and not wish at any cost to revert to an
order of things which was useful in the past and which probably is no
longer willed by God in the period in which we are living. One does
not go back up the course of life or that of history; the old man
does not return to adolescence; and our century cannot return to what
existed in the thirteenth, though it should seek to profit by all the
good handed down by past ages in order to prepare a future in which
God truly reigns.

In all these forms of obedience to all that manifests
the will of God, in obedience to the duty of the present moment from
minute to minute, the Christian ought always to have before his eyes
as his model the Savior, who was “obedient unto death, even to
the death of the cross.”365
Thus the martyrs and all the saints obeyed, finding their joy in
dying to self-will that they might feed on that of God according to
the Savior’s words: “My meat is to do the will of Him
that sent Me.”366

THE FRUITS OF OBEDIENCE

To comprehend the grandeur and the fruits of
obedience, we should remember that it is more perfect to offer God
one’s will and judgment than to offer Him exterior goods
through voluntary poverty, or one’s body and heart through
chastity.367
It is also more perfect to offer Him one’s will than to
sacrifice to Him exteriorly a lamb or a dove, as was done in the
sacrifices of the Old Testament. With this meaning, Scripture says:
“Obedience is better than sacrifices: and to hearken rather
than to offer the fat of rams.”368

The fruits of obedience are chiefly the following: it
gives a great rectitude of judgment, great strength of will, the
highest liberty of spirit.

The greatest rectitude of judgment comes from the
fact that obedience makes us participate in the very wisdom of God;
it renders us more wise than the wisest, more prudent than the
ancients: Super senes intellexi. In the most difficult and the
most complicated situations, it brings us the solution that is
practically true for us here and now. Practically, we do not make a
mistake in obeying, even if the superior is mistaken. By humble
obedience a simple lay brother, Blessed Martin de Porres of Peru, did
more for his country than statesmen who do not think of praying to
obtain light.

As a reward for fidelity, perfect obedience obtains
from the Holy Ghost, even here on earth, the inspirations of the gift
of counsel that direct us in the most hidden things of the spirit
which a director or a superior could not state precisely and which
our prudence could not succeed in settling properly. The gift of
counsel is particularly necessary for those whose duty it is to
command, that they may do so supernaturally; for this reason if a man
does not begin by obeying well, he will never know how to command.
God gives His lights to the obedient.

Obedience also gives great strength of will.
Naturalism declares at times that obedience weakens the will; on the
contrary, it strengthens the will tenfold. When, in fact, there is no
reason to doubt that an order comes from God through the intermediary
of a legitimate superior, it is also certain that by divine grace the
fulfillment of this order is possible. As St. Augustine says: “God,
in fact, never commands the impossible; but He tells us to do what we
are able and to ask Him for the grace to accomplish what we cannot do
of ourselves.”369
Therefore St. Augustine used to pray: “Lord, give me the
strength to accomplish what Thou dost command, and command what Thou
dost wish.”

Because God never commands the impossible, when in
certain circumstances martyrdom is of precept, in the sense that it
must be undergone rather than deny the faith, God gives the strength
to obey, to be faithful to Him in the midst of torture; and He gives
this strength even to children, to young virgins, like St. Agnes, or
to old men weakened by age. In such cases especially are realized the
words of Scripture: “An obedient man shall speak of victory.”370

Without going as far as marytrdom, obedience works
prodigies. We need only cite the example of the first sixteen sons of
St. Dominic. Strong in the Pope’s blessing, the holy founder
sent them from Toulouse into various parts of Europe to found
convents and to carry on the apostolate. Having no money to give
them, the saint said to them: “You shall beg your food; I will
pray for you three times a day. I promise you that, in spite of the
distress of poverty, you will never lack what is necessary.”
The sixteen religious, trusting in the words of their Father, obeyed;
they left joyfully like the first apostles, and were not slow in
multiplying in Italy, Spain, England, even in faraway Poland, and
among the infidels of the Orient whom they went to evangelize. This
example and many others confirm the grandeur of obedience. When an
order is given, and there is no doubt but that it comes from God, the
grace which makes its fulfillment possible is most certainly
bestowed. If a person prays to be faithful to this grace and not to
resist it, he accomplishes the command not without difficulty
sometimes, but he accomplishes it.

Finally, obedience, far from being a servitude,
bestows the highest liberty, that of the children of God, as
voluntary poverty gives true spiritual riches, as perfect charity
obtains the intimacy of the love of God. A French author, Alfred de
Vigny, wrote a beautiful book on the life of a soldier; it is
entitled, Servitude et grandeur militaires; in perfect
Christian obedience there are a servitude and a superior grandeur
that are truly supernatural. Of this obedience St. Paul speaks when
he reminds us that we should desire to be “delivered from the
servitude of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the children
of God”;371
“Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty,”372
that is to say, deliverance, for divine truth delivers the soul from
error. Injecting truth into life, obedience sets man free from the
prejudices of the world, from its maxims, modes, and infatuations. It
frees him from excessive preoccupation about the judgment of men,
from concern about what people will say, instead of doing good and
letting them talk. Obedience delivers him from his doubts,
hesitations, and anxieties. It simplifies life while elevating it.
With it liberty grows, for in man liberty comes from the intellect,
and the more enlightened his intellect is, the more free he is. The
more man understands that God is the sovereign Good, the freer he is
not to respond to the attraction of earthly goods, and the stronger
he is against the threats of the impious. Who was freer than the
martyrs? Through love and obedience they freely gave their blood in
witness of divine truth, and neither iron nor fire could force an
abjuration from them. They obeyed in a spirit of faith and for love
of God, like the Savior, who was obedient “unto death, even to
the death of the cross.”

The grandeur of obedience is expressed in this
frequently quoted, holy expression: “To serve God is to reign,”
that is, to reign over one’s passions, over the spirit of the
world, over the enemy of souls and his suggestions; it is to reign in
the very kingdom of God and, so to speak, to share in His
independence toward all created things. It is to place oneself like a
docile instrument in His hands for all that He wishes, following out
St. Augustine’s words which we have already quoted: “Lord,
give me the strength to accomplish what Thou dost command, and
command what Thou dost wish.”

Of a certainty obedience thus understood prepares for
the contemplation of divine things; it prepares us to see the will of
God or His permission in all pleasurable or painful events, and it
helps us. to understand “that to them that love God [and
persevere in His love], all things work together unto good.”

Chapter 16: Simplicity and Uprightness

“If
thy eye be single, thy whole body shall be lightsome.”Matt.
6: 22

Christian prudence or holy discretion, of which we
have spoken, should be accompanied by a virtue, simplicity, which is
to all appearances quite different. Christ Himself expressed this
when He said to His apostles: “Behold I send you as sheep in
the midst of wolves. Be ye therefore wise as serpents and simple as
doves.”373

Sending His apostles as sheep in the midst of wolves,
Christ recommends to them prudence especially toward the wicked, that
they may not be deceived by them, and simplicity in reference to self
and to God. The more simple the soul is in regard to God, the more He
Himself, by the gift of counsel, will inspire the prudence to be
observed in difficult circumstances, in the midst of the greatest
obstacles. Consequently Christ announces immediately afterward to His
followers that the Holy Ghost will inspire them with what they must
reply to persecutors.

Where this simplicity does not exist, prudence begins
to become false and to turn into cunning. The crafty or the shrewd
man makes sport, says Holy Scripture, of the simplicity of the just:
“The simplicity of the just man is laughed to scorn,”
says Job.374
People try to make simplicity pass for naivete and lack of
penetration; it may indeed be accompanied in some by artlessness, but
it is essentially something superior.

To get a correct idea of the virtue of simplicity and
of veracity and uprightness which it makes us preserve, we should
note first of all the defects opposed to it. God permits evil only
for a greater good, in particular to bring virtue into greater
relief. We have a better understanding of its value through the
aversion inspired in us by the contrary vices.

DEFECTS OPPOSED TO
SIMPLICITY

According to St. Thomas,375
simplicity is attached to the virtue of veracity, which puts truth
into speech, gestures, manner of being and of living. Simplicity, in
fact, is opposed to duplicity, by which we interiorly wish something
other than what exteriorly we pretend. A man wishes other people’s
money and pretends to render them service; in reality, he wishes to
make use of them or of what belongs to them; or again, he wishes
power and honors, and to obtain them pretends to serve his country;
he pretends to be magnanimous, when in reality he is only ambitious.
This defect of duplicity, which may become Machiavellianism or
perfidy, inclines a man to be two-faced, according to the people he
is addressing, like the Roman god Janus that was represented with two
faces. A two-faced man pretends to be your friend, tells you that you
are right, and he tells your adversaries that they are not wrong.

Duplicity inspires lies, simulation, which leads a
man to make himself esteemed for something other than he is,
hypocrisy, by which he affects a virtue, a piety which he does not
have. It also inspires boasting, because one prefers appearance to
reality; one seeks to appear rather than to be what one should. It
also inspires raillery, which turns others into ridicule in order to
lower them in their neighbor’s esteem and to exalt oneself
above them.

All these defects, which are frequent in the world,
show by contrast the value of uprightness or veracity in life.

VERACITY AND THE INTERIOR
LIFE

Veracity, a virtue attached to justice, leads a man
to tell the truth always and to act in conformity with it. This does
not mean that every truth should be told to everybody, sermonizing
right and left and boasting of a frankness which borders on insolence
or lack of respect. But if every truth is not to be told, if there
are truths which it is expedient to suppress, we should avoid
speaking against the truth and falling into an officious lie, which
we are tempted to tell in order to escape from an embarrassing
situation. If we have committed this sin, we must accuse ourselves
frankly of it, instead of seeking by false principles to justify this
manner of acting. Thus to act would gradually bring about the loss of
all loyalty and would destroy all confidence in human testimony,
which is indispensable to the life of society.

It is indeed difficult at times, when faced with an
indiscreet question, to keep a secret which has been entrusted to one
and at the same time not to speak contrary to the truth.376
But if the Christian is habitually docile to the inspirations from
above, the Holy Ghost will inspire him in such difficult
circumstances as these with the reply to make or the question to ask,
as He did the first Christians when they were led before the
tribunals. Christ foretold this when He said: “When they shall
deliver you up, take no thought how or what to speak: for it shall be
given you in that hour what to speak. For it is not you that speak,
but the Spirit of your Father that speaketh in you.”377
This prediction was often verified during the French Revolution when
priests were hunted down and when, to prevent them from bringing the
last sacraments to the dying, they were asked all sorts of insidious
questions. The Holy Ghost often inspired their answers, which, though
not opposed to the truth, permitted them to continue their ministry.

Every Christian in the state of grace has the seven
gifts of the Holy Ghost, which render him docile to receive His
inspirations, given especially in difficult circumstances where even
our infused prudence is insufficient. St. Thomas says even that for
this reason the gifts of the Holy Ghost are necessary to salvation as
the complement of the infused virtues.378
The casuists should have remembered this great truth instead of
having recourse to theories that occasionally were hazardous, in
order to permit certain mental restrictions which were so slightly
manifest that they bordered singularly on falsehood. It is better to
recognize that one has committed a venial sin of lying than to have
recourse to theories which falsify the definition of a lie, in order
not to admit it there where it is. It is of great importance to
preserve the spirit of uprightness of which our Lord speaks when He
says: “Let your speech be yea, yea: no, no: and that which is
over and above these, is of evil”379
He spoke in this manner to those who, in order to make their
testimony believed, swore without reason by heaven or by the temple
at Jerusalem. Dis­respectful oaths expose one to perjury; if a
man is accustomed always to tell the truth, others will believe his
speech.

In treating of veracity, St. Thomas makes a remark
which particularly concerns the interior life. This virtue, he says,380
inclines a man to keep silent about his own qualities, or not to
manifest the whole good that is in him; this is done without
prejudice to the truth, since not to speak of it, is not to deny its
existence. St. Thomas even quotes on the subject the following
reflection of Aristotle: “Those who represent themselves as
being greater than they are, are a source of annoyance to others,
since they seem to wish to surpass others: whereas those who make
less account of themselves are a source of pleasure, since they seem
to defer to others by their moderation.”381
St. Paul also says: “For though I should have a mind to glory,
I shall not be foolish; for I will say the truth. But I forbear, lest
any man should think of me above that which he seeth in me, or
anything he heareth from me.”382

The virtue pf veracity thus practiced, not only in
speech but in action, in our whole way of living, brings truth into
our lives. And when our life is established in the truth, then God,
who is supreme Truth, inclines toward us by His divine inspirations,
which gradually become the principle of a higher contemplation. To
let ourselves fall into the habit of lying is to turn away from the
truth and to deprive ourselves of the higher inspirations of the gift
of wisdom. Habitual living in the truth prepares us to receive these
inspirations, which make us penetrate and taste divine truth that we
shall someday contemplate unveiled.

SUPERIOR SIMPLICITY, THE
IMAGE OF THAT OF GOD

Another aspect of veracity, the superior simplicity
of the saints, prepares the soul even more for contemplation.
Simplicity is opposed not only to duplicity, but to every useless
complexity, to all that is pretentious or tainted with affectation,
like sentimentality which affects a love that one does not have. What
falsity to wish to talk in a glowing style as if one were already in
the seventh mansion of the interior castle, when one has not yet
entered the fourth! How far superior is the simplicity of the Gospel!

We say that a child’s gaze is simple because
the child goes straight to the point without any mental reservation.
With this meaning Christ says to us: “If thy eye be single, thy
whole body shall be lightsome”; that is, if our intention is
upright and simple, our whole life will be one, true, and luminous,
instead of being divided like that of those who try to serve two
masters, God and money, at the same time. In the presence of the
complexities, the pretenses, the more or less untruthful
complications of the world, we feel instinctively that the moral
virtue of simplicity or of perfect loyalty is a reflection of a
divine perfection.

The simplicity of God is that of the pure Spirit who
is Truth itself and Goodness itself. In Him are no thoughts that
succeed one another; there is but one thought, ever the same, which
subsists and embraces every truth. The simplicity of His intellect is
that of a most pure gaze which, without any admixture of error or
ignorance, has unchangeably as its object every knowable truth. The
simplicity of His will or of His love is that of a sovereignly pure
intention ordering all things admirably and permitting evil only for
a greater good.

The most beautiful characteristic of God’s
simplicity is that it unites in itself perfections which in
appearance are most contradictory: absolute immutability and absolute
liberty; infinite wisdom and the freest good pleasure, which at times
seems arbitrary to us; or again infinite justice, which is inexorable
toward unrepented sin, and infinite mercy. All these perfections are
fused and identified without destroying each other in the eminent
simplicity of God.

We find a reflection of this lofty simplicity in the
smile of a child and in the simplicity of the gaze of the saints,
which is far superior to all the more or less untruthful intricacies
of worldly wisdom and prudence.

What a false notion of simplicity we sometimes form
when we imagine that it consists in telling frankly all that passes
through our minds or hearts, at the risk of contradicting ourselves
from one day to the next, when circumstances will have changed and
the persons whom we see will have ceased to please us! This
quasi-simplicity is instability itself and contradiction, and
consequently complexity and more or less conscious untruth; whereas
the superior simplicity of the saints, the image of that of God, is
the simplicity of an unchanging wisdom and of a pure and strong love,
superior to our impressionability and successive opinions.

St. Francis de Sales often speaks of simplicity.383
He reduces it to the upright intention of the love of God, which
should prevail over all our sentiments, and which does not tarry over
the useless search for a quantity of exercises that would make us
lose sight of the unity of the end to be attained. He says also that
simplicity is the best of artifices because it goes straight toward
its goal. He adds that it is not opposed to prudence, and that it
does not interfere with what others do.

The perfect soul is thus a simplified soul, which
reaches the point of judging everything, not according to the
subjective impression of the moment, but in the divine light, and of
willing things only for God. And whereas the complex soul, which
judges according to its whims, is disturbed for a trifle, the
simplified soul is in a constant state of peace because of its wisdom
and its love. This superior simplicity, which is quite different from
naivete, or ingenuousness, harmonizes perfectly, therefore, with the
most cautious Christian prudence that is attentive to the least
details of our acts and to their proximate or remote repercussion.

The soul of a St. Joseph, a St. John, a St. Francis,
a St. Dominic, or a Cure of Ars gives us an idea of the simplicity of
God; still more so does the soul of Mary, Morning Star, Queen of
virgins and of all saints, Queen of peace. Higher still the holy soul
of Christ reflects most purely the simplicity of God.

In Christ we find harmonized in a simple way the holy
rigor of justice toward the hypocritical Pharisees and immense mercy
toward all souls of which He is the Good Shepherd. In Him are united
in the simplest manner the deepest humility and the loftiest dignity.
For thirty years He lived the hidden life of a poor workman; He tells
us that He came to serve, not to be served. On Holy Thursday He
washed the feet of His disciples; He accepted the utmost humiliations
of the Passion; He said simply to His Father: “My Father, if it
be possible, let this chalice pass from Me. Nevertheless, not as I
will, but as Thou wilt.”384
Before Pilate He proclaims simply His universal royalty: “My
kingdom is not of this world. . . . Thou sayest that I am a king. For
this was I born, and for this came I into the world; that I should
give testimony to the truth. Every one that is of the truth, heareth
My voice.”385
He dies simply, saying: “Father, into Thy hands I commend My
spirit. . . . It is consummated.”386
In this simplicity is such grandeur that the centurion, seeing Him
die, could not refrain from exclaiming: “Indeed this was the
Son of God.”387

The centurion had the gaze of a contemplative; he
sensed in the dying Christ, who seemed to be definitively conquered,
Him who was winning the greatest victory over sin, the devil, and
death. This light of contemplation was given to him by the dying
Christ, by the Savior, who inclines more particularly toward the
simple who are clean of heart.

This superior simplicity, even in souls without
learning, is a preparation for the profound understanding of divine
things. The Old Testament had already declared: “Seek Him [the
Lord] in simplicity of heart.’388
“Better is the poor man that walketh in his simplicity, than a
rich man that is perverse in his lips.”389
“Let us all die in our innocency,”390
said the Machabees, under the injustice which afflicted them. “Obey,”
says St. Paul, . . .”in simplicity of heart.”391
And he exhorts the Corinthians to beware lest they “fall from
the simplicity that is in Christ.”392
Simplicity must be observed toward God, superiors, and self. It is
the truth of life.

This simplicity, says Bossuet,393
is what permits limpid souls “to enter the heights of God,”
the ways of Providence, the unsearchable mysteries at which complex
souls take scandal, the mysteries of the infinite justice, the
infinite mercy, and the sovereign liberty of the divine good
pleasure. All these mysteries, despite their obscurity, are in their
loftiness simple for the simple.

Why are these mysteries simple for some and obscure
for others? The answer lies in the fact that in divine things the
most simple, like the Our Father, are also the loftiest and the most
profound. We forget this fact because the inverse is true in the
things of the world, in which good and evil are intimately mingled.
Hence they are often very complex, and then he who wishes to be
simple in this domain lacks penetration; he remains naive, ingenuous,
and superficial. In divine things, on the contrary, simplicity is
united to depth and elevation, for divine things that are highest in
God and deepest in our hearts are simplicity itself.

We have an example in the profound simplicity of the
Blessed Virgin Mary and also in that of St. Joseph, who, after our
Lord and Mary, was the most eminently simple and contemplative soul
the world has ever seen. His simplicity was the effect of his unique
predestination as foster father of the Savior together with the
habits of life of a humble carpenter. Leo XIII, in his encyclical on
the Patronage of St. Joseph, says: “There is no doubt that more
than anyone he approached that supereminent dignity by which the
Mother of God so highly surpasses all creatures.”394

St. Thomas Aquinas also had in a very eminent degree
the virtue of simplicity, which is an aspect of veracity, of the
truth of life.

In recent times God has given us a lofty example of
the simplicity of the saints united to the contemplation of the
mysteries of faith in the person of St. Teresa of the Child Jesus.395
She says: “Far from resembling those beautiful souls who, from
their childhood, practiced all sorts of macerations, I made mine
consist solely in breaking my will, in withholding an answer, in
rendering little services without drawing attention to them, and many
other things of this kind.”396
“In my little way, there are only ordinary things; little souls
must be able to do all that I do.”397
“How easy it is to please Jesus, to ravish His heart,”
she used to say; “one has only to love Him, without looking at
oneself, without too greatly examining one’s defects.
Consequently, when I happen to fall into some fault, I pick myself up
at once. A glance toward Jesus and the knowledge of one’s own
wretchedness make reparation for everything. He calls Himself the
‘Flower of the fields’ (Cant. 2: I) in order to show how
greatly He cherishes simplicity.”398

Speaking of her way of training the novices, she
remarked on the subject of disputes which may arise between two
persons: “Nothing is easier than to cast the blame on the
absent. I do just the contrary. My duty is to tell the truth to the
souls entrusted to me, and I tell it.”399

Again she states: “It is an illusion to think
that one can do good outside obedience.”400
And we see to what a degree in her own life were realized these words
of hers: “The Lord is often pleased to give wisdom to little
ones.”401
It is not therefore surprising that His Holiness Pius XI should have
declared in his homily for the feast of her canonization: “It
has therefore pleased the divine Goodness to endow and to enrich
Sister Teresa with an entirely exceptional gift of wisdom. . . . The
Spirit of truth showed her and taught her what He ordinarily hides
from the wise and prudent and reveals to the humble.”402
Pope Benedict XV had spoken in like terms: “This happy servant
of God had herself so much knowledge that she was able to indicate to
others the true way of salvation.” Her life and doctrine show
how greatly the superior simplicity of the saints opens their
intellect and renders it docile to the inspirations of the Holy
Ghost, that they may penetrate and taste the mysteries of salvation
and attain to union with God.403

The saints know well what this union demands that it
may be preserved in the midst of circumstances often unforeseen and
painful. Superior simplicity united to discretion reminds them, no
matter what happens, that “to them that love God [and persevere
in this love], all things work together unto good.”

To some it seems useless in a treatise on ascetical
and mystical theology to insist on virtues such as these, and they
are in a hurry to deal with questions on infused contemplation that
are disputed among theologians and psychologists. We think, on the
contrary, that it is extremely necessary to insist, as all the saints
have done and as is done in every cause of beatification, on these
Christian virtues which have so profound an influence on thought and
life. Then the traditional doctrine on infused contemplation appears
as a resultant of all that has been said about the progress of the
acquired virtues, the infused virtues, and the seven gifts of the
Holy Ghost in interior souls truly detached from themselves and
almost continually united to God. Under the pretext that the doctrine
relative to the Christian virtues and the seven gifts is known by
all, some never examine it deeply. Contemplation is, nevertheless, in
the sweet and profound intuition of the divine truths known by all
Christians, for example, of those expressed in the Our Father. The
virtue of simplicity, conceived as a reflection in us of the divine
simplicity, reminds us of this fact.

Chapter 17: The Spirit of Faith and Its Progress

We have spoken of the progress of the Christian moral
virtues in the illuminative way; now we shall discuss the progress of
the theological virtues, first of all that of faith and its influence
on our whole life. By so doing we shall be prepared to see what
mental prayer should be in the illuminative way.

We shall see the nature of the spirit of faith, then
how it should grow in us, finally what its excellence and power
should be that we may continually live by it, according to the words
of Scripture: “The just man liveth by faith.”404

THE NATURE OF THE SPIRIT
OF FAITH

In reality man always lives according to one spirit
or another; whether it be according to the spirit of nature, when he
does not go beyond practical naturalism, or according to the spirit
of faith, when he tends seriously toward his last end, toward heaven
and sanctity.

The spirit according to which we live is a special
manner of considering all things, of seeing, judging, feeling,
loving, sympathizing, willing, and acting. It is a particular
mentality or disposition that colors almost all our judgments and
acts, and communicates to our life its elevation or depression.
Consequently the spirit of faith is a special manner of judging all
things from the higher point of view of essentially supernatural
faith, which is based on the authority of God revealing, on the
veracity of God, Author of grace and glory, who by the road of faith
wishes to lead us to eternal life.

We may better grasp the nature of the spirit of faith
by considering the spirit opposed to it, which is a sort of spiritual
blindness that enables man to attain divine things only materially
and from without.405
Thus Israel, the chosen people, did not have a sufficiently spiritual
understanding of the privilege which it had received and in which,
with the coming of the Savior, other peoples, called also to receive
the divine revelation, were to share. The Jews thought that the bread
reserved to the children of Israel should not be given to pagans.
Christ reminds us of this way of thinking in the first words He
addresses to the woman of Canaan; then He immediately inspires her
with the admirable reply: “Yea, Lord; for the whelps also eat
of the crumbs that fall from the table of their masters.” Then
Jesus answering, said to her: “O woman, great is thy faith: be
it done to thee as thou wilt. And her daughter was cured from that
hour.”406

The spirit of faith, which the Jews lacked and this
humble woman possessed, is the spirit of divine and universal truth,
the very object of faith, above any particularism of peoples or human
societies. Thus St. Paul, who was at first strictly attached to the
Synagogue and its prejudices, became the Apostle of the Gentiles.
Similarly the glory of St. Augustine and St. Thomas does not consist
in their being the masters of only a group of disciples, but in their
being the common doctors of the Church.

The spirit of faith can have this universality only
because of its eminent simplicity, which is a participation in the
wisdom of God. The act of faith, as St. Thomas points out, is far
above reasoning, a simple act by which we believe at the same time in
God revealing and in God revealed.407
By this essentially supernatural act we adhere infallibly to God who
reveals and to the mysteries revealed. Thus by this simple act,
superior to all reasoning, we tend in obscurity toward the
contemplation of divine things above all the certitudes of a natural
order. The essentially supernatural certitude of infused faith, as we
said before,408
greatly surpasses the rational certitude that man can have of the
divine origin of the Gospel through the historical and critical study
of the miracles which confirm it.

Faith, which is a gift of God,409
is like a spiritual sense enabling us to hear the harmony of revealed
mysteries, or the harmony of the voice of God, before we are admitted
to see Him face to face. Infused faith is like a superior musical
sense enabling us to hear more or less indistinctly the meaning of a
mysterious spiritual harmony of which God is the author. St. Paul
states the matter clearly: “We have received not the spirit of
this world, but the Spirit that is of God; that we may know the
things that are given us from God. Which things also we speak, not in
the learned words of human wisdom; but in the doctrine of the Spirit,
comparing spiritual things with spiritual. But the sensual man
perceiveth not these things that are of the Spirit of God; for it is
foolishness to him, and he cannot understand, because it is
spiritually examined. But the spiritual man judgeth all things; and
he himself is judged of no man. For who hath known the mind of the
Lord, that he may instruct Him? But we have the mind of Christ.”410

For judging in this manner, faith is aided by the
gift of understanding, which makes man penetrate the meaning of the
mysteries, and by the gift of wisdom, which makes him taste them. But
it is faith itself which makes us adhere infallibly to the word of
God.

The theological virtue of infused faith, in spite of
the obscurity of the mysteries, is very superior to the intuitive and
very luminous knowledge which the angels possess naturally. Infused
faith, in reality, belongs to the same order as eternal life, of
which it is like the seed; as St. Paul says, it is “the
substance of things to be hoped for,”411
the basis of our justification.412
The angels themselves needed to receive this gratuitous gift of God
in order to tend to the supernatural end to which they were called.413

As St. Francis de Sales414
says in substance, when God gives us faith, He enters our soul and
speaks to our spirit, not by way of discourse but by His inspiration.
When faith comes, the soul strips Itself of all discourses and
arguments and, subjecting them to faith, it enthrones faith on them,
recognizing it as queen. When the light of faith has cast the
splendor of its truths on our understanding, our will immediately
feels the warmth of celestial love.415

THE GROWTH OF INFUSED
FAITH IN US

It is important for the sanctification of our souls
to remember that faith should daily increase in us. It may be greater
in a poorly educated but holy, just man than in a theologian. St.
Thomas Aquinas states: “A man’s faith may be described as
being greater, in one way, on the part of his intellect, on account
of its greater certitude and firmness, and, in another way, on the
part of his will, on account of his greater promptitude, devotion, or
confidence.”416
The reason is that “faith results from the gift of grace, which
is not equally in all.”417
Thus our Lord says of certain of His disciples that they are still
men “of little faith,”418
“slow of heart to believe,”419
whereas He said to the woman of Canaan: “O woman, great is thy
faith.”420

“But my just man liveth by faith,”421
and increasingly so. There are holy individuals who have never made a
conceptual analysis of the dogmas of the Trinity, the Incarnation,
the Eucharist, and who have never deduced from these dogmas the
theological conclusions known to all theologians; but in these souls
the infused virtue of faith is far more elevated, more intense than
in many theologians. Many recent beatifications and canonizations
confirm this fact. When we read the life of St. Bernadette of Lourdes
or of St. Gemma Galgani, we can well exclaim: God grant that I may
one day have as great faith as these souls!

Theologians say justly that faith may grow either in
extension or in depth or in intensity. Our faith is extended when we
gradually learn all that has been defined by the Church on the
mysteries of the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Eucharist, and the
other points of Christian doctrine. Thus theologians know explicitly
all that has been defined by the Church; but it does not follow that
they have a faith as intense and profound as it is extended. On the
contrary, among the faithful there are saints who are ignorant of
several points of doctrine defined by the Church, for example, the
redemptive Incarnation and the Eucharist, and who penetrate
profoundly these mysteries of salvation as they are simply announced
in the Gospel. St. Benedict Joseph Labre, for example, never had
occasion to read a theological treatise on the Incarnation, but he
lived profoundly by this mystery and that of the Eucharist.

The apostles asked for this faith that is greater in
depth and intensity when they said to the Lord: “Increase our
faith.”422
And Jesus answered: “All things whatsoever you shall ask in
prayer, believing, you shall receive.”423
We shall obtain it especially if we ask perseveringly for ourselves
what is necessary or manifestly useful to salvation, like the
increase of the virtues.

THE EXCELLENCE AND THE
POWER OF THE SPIRIT OF FAITH

The value of the spirit of faith is measured in trial
by the difficulties which it surmounts. St. Paul says this eloquently
in the Epistle to the Hebrews: “By faith Abraham, when he was
tried, offered Isaac: and he that had received the promises, offered
up his only begotten son. . . . Accounting that God is able to raise
up even from the dead. . . . By faith he [Moses] left Egypt, not
fearing the fierceness of the king [Pharao]: for he endured as seeing
Him that is invisible. . . . For the time would fail me to tell of
Gedeon, Barac, Samson, Jephthe, David, Samuel, and the prophets; who
by faith conquered kingdoms, wrought justice, obtained promises,
stopped the mouths of lions [like Daniel], quenched the violence of
fire [like the three children in the furnace]. . . . And others had
trial of mockeries and stripes, moreover also of bands and prisons.
They were stoned [like Zachary], they were cut asunder [like Isaias],
they were tempted, they were put to death by the sword, they wandered
about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being in want, distressed,
afflicted; of whom the world was not worthy.”424
(This same type of thing has been renewed in our own day in Russia
and Mexico.) And St. Paul concludes: “And therefore, . . . let
us run by patience to the fight proposed to us: looking on Jesus, the
Author and Finisher of faith, who having joy set before Him, endured
the cross, despising the shame, and now sitteth on the right hand of
the throne of God.”425

In his commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, St.
Thomas Aquinas, carried away by the word of God and raised to the
contemplation of this mystery, tells us: “Consider Christ who
bore such contradiction on the part of sinners . . . , and in no
matter what tribulation, you will find the remedy in the cross of
Jesus. You will find in it the example of all the virtues. As St.
Gregory the Great says, if we recall the passion of our Savior, there
is nothing so hard and so painful that we cannot bear it with
patience and love.”426

The more the spirit of faith grows in us, the more we
grasp the sense of the mystery of Christ, who came into this world
for our salvation. That we may have this understanding, the Church,
our Mother, places daily before our eyes at the end of Mass the
prologue of the Gospel of St. John, which contains the synthesis of
what revelation teaches about the mystery of Christ. Let us nourish
our souls daily with this sublime page which we shall never
sufficiently penetrate. It recalls to us the three births of the
Word: His eternal birth, His temporal birth according to the flesh,
and His spiritual birth in souls. It is the summary of what is
loftiest in the four Gospels.

In this summary of Christian faith we have, first of
all, the eternal birth of the Word: “In the beginning was the
Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” We have
here a clear statement of the consubstantiality of the Word. “No
man has seen God at any time: the only begotten Son who is in the
bosom of the Father, He hath declared Him.”427
Thus light is thrown on the loftiest words of the Messianic psalms:
“The Lord hath said to Me: Thou art My Son; this day have I
begotten Thee,”428
today in the unique instant of immobile eternity. “For to which
of the angels,” St. Paul asks, “hath He said at any time:
Thou art My Son, today have I begotten Thee?”429
The Word, splendor of the Father, is infinitely above all creatures,
whom He created and preserves.

We should also nourish our souls with what is said in
the same prologue about the temporal birth of the Son of God: “And
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us (and we saw His glory,
the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father), full of
grace and truth.”430
This temporal birth of Christ is the realization of all the Messianic
prophecies and the source of all the graces that men will receive
until the end of the world.

Lastly, we should live by what this same prologue
tells us of the spiritual birth of the Word in our souls: “He
came unto His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as
received Him, He gave them power to be made the sons of God, to them
that believe in His name, who are born, not of blood, nor of the will
of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”431
He gave them to become children of God by adoption, as He is the Son
of God by nature. Our sonship is a figure of His, for we read in the
same chapter: “And of His fullness we all have received, and
grace for grace.”432

To show us how He wishes to live in us, the Son of
God says to us: “If anyone love Me, he will keep My word. And
My Father will love him, and We will come to him, and will make Our
abode with him.”433
It is not only the created gift of grace that will come, it is the
divine Persons: the Father, the Son, and also the Holy Ghost promised
by the Savior to His disciples.

Instead of daily reciting the Credo and the Gloria in
a mechanical manner, instead of almost mechanically saying the
prologue of the Fourth Gospel, we should live more profoundly by this
very substantial abridgment of divine revelation. The spirit of faith
should thus, while growing, normally give us in ever greater measure
the meaning of the mystery of Christ, the supernatural meaning that
should gradually become penetrating and sweet contemplation, the
source of peace and joy, according to St. Paul’s words:
“Rejoice in the Lord always. . . . And the peace of God, which
surpasseth all understanding; keep your hearts and minds in Christ
Jesus.”434

A PRACTICAL MANNER OF
LIVING BY THE SPIRIT OF FAITH

We should live by the spirit of faith by judging all
things under its superior light, thus considering God first of all,
then our own soul, next our neighbor, and all the events of life.

Is it necessary to say that we should consider God in
the light of faith? Unfortunately, it is only too necessary. Do we
not often consider God Himself in the light of our prejudices, our
very human sentiments, our petty passions, contrary to the testimony
that He Himself gives us in Scripture? Does it not happen even in
prayer that we listen to ourselves, that we ascribe to the Lord our
own reflections which are more or less inspired by our self-love? In
hours of presumption, are we not inclined to think that the divine
mercy is for us, and divine justice for those who do not please us?
In moments of discouragement, on the contrary, do we not in practice
doubt the love of God for us, and His boundless mercy? We often
disfigure the spiritual physiognomy of God, considering it from the
point of view of our egoism, and not from that of salvation, under
the true light of divine revelation.

From the point of view of faith, God appears not
through the movements of our self-love, but in the mirror of the
mysteries of the life and passion of the Savior and in that of the
life of the Church, renewed daily by the Eucharist. Then the eye of
faith, which St. Catherine of Siena often speaks of, is increasingly
purified by the mortification of the senses, of inordinate passions,
of personal judgment and self-will. Only then does this blindfold of
pride gradually fall away, this veil which hinders us from glimpsing
divine things or allows only their shadows and difficulties to
appear. Often we consider the truths of faith in the same way as
people who see the stained-glass windows of a cathedral only from
without; it is under the interior light that we should learn to
contemplate them.

We should consider ourselves in the light of faith.
If we see ourselves only under a natural light, we discover in
ourselves natural qualities that we often exaggerate. Then contact
with reality, with trial, shows us our exaggeration; and we fall into
depression or discouragement.

In the light of faith we would recognize the
supernatural treasures that God placed in us by baptism and increased
by Communion. We would daily realize a little better the value of
sanctifying grace, of the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity in us; we
would consider what the fruit of a fervent Communion should be; the
grandeur of the Christian vocation, in the light of the precept of
love, would become increasingly apparent to us.

We would also see more clearly the obstacles that
hinder the development of grace in us: the levity that makes us
forget we have in us the seed of eternal life, and a foolish pride,
completely contrary to the spirit of wisdom. From this higher point
of view, we would not delay in discovering in ourselves two things
that are exceedingly important for us to know: our predominant fault
and our principal attraction of grace, the black and the white, what
must be destroyed and what should grow.

But it is our neighbor especially whom we forget to
consider in the light of. faith. We see him in the light of reason,
which is deformed by our prejudices, egoism, pride, jealousies, and
other passions. Consequently we approve in our neighbor what pleases
us from a human point of view, what is conformed to our natural
tastes or to our whims, what is useful to us, what makes us
important, what our neighbor owes us. As a result, we condemn in him
what annoys us, often what renders him superior to us, what offends
us. How many rash, harsh, pitiless judgments, how many more or less
conscious calumnies spring from this gaze that is darkened by
self­love and pride!

If we could see our neighbor in the light of faith,
with a pure spiritual gaze, what profit for him and for us! Then we
would see in our superiors the representatives of God; we would obey
them wholeheartedly without criticism, as we would our Lord Himself.
In people who are naturally not congenial to us, we would see souls
redeemed by the blood of Christ, who are part of His mystical body
and perhaps nearer to His Sacred Heart than we are. Our supernatural
gaze would pierce the opaque envelope of flesh and blood which
prevents us from seeing the souls that surround us. Often we live for
long years in the company of beautiful souls without ever suspecting
it. We must merit to see souls in order to love them deeply and
sincerely. Had we this love, we could then tell them salutary truths
and hear such truths from them.

Similarly, if we saw in the light of faith persons
who naturally please us, we would occasionally discover in them
supernatural virtues that would greatly elevate and purify our
affection. With benevolence we would also see the obstacles to the
perfect reign of our Lord in them, and we could with true charity
give them friendly advice or receive it from them in order to advance
seriously in the way of God.

Lastly, we should see all the events of our lives,
whether agreeable or painful, in the light of faith in order to live
truly by the spirit of faith. We are often content to see the
felicitous or unfortunate occurrences, as well as the facts of daily
life, under their sensible aspect, which is accessible to the senses
of the animal, or from the point of view of our more or less deformed
reason. Rarely do we consider them from the supernatural point of
view which would show us, as St. Paul says, that “to them that
love God all things work together unto good,”435
even contradictions, the most painful and unforeseen vexations, even
sin, says St. Augustine, if we humble ourselves for it.

In the injustices of men which we may have to
undergo, we would also often discover the justice of God and, when
wrongly accused of faults, we would see a well-merited punishment for
hidden sins for which no one reproves us. We would also comprehend
the meaning of the divine trials and of the purification which God
has in view when He sends them to us.

We shall speak farther on of the passive purification
of faith by certain of these trials, which free this theological
virtue from all alloy and bring into powerful relief its formal
motive: the first revealing Truth. Before reaching this stage, let us
grow in faith, not judging everything from the sole point of view of
reason. We must know how to renounce certain inferior lights or
quasi-lights, that we may receive others that are far higher. The sun
must set to enable us to see the stars in the depths of the heavens;
likewise we must renounce the misuse of reason, which may be called
practical rationalism, that we may discover the highly superior
splendor of the great mysteries of faith and live profoundly by
them.436

Chapter 18: Confidence in God; Its Certitude

Since we have spoken of the spirit of faith, it is
fitting that we consider what hope in God, or confidence in Him,
should be in proficients, and that we state precisely what must be
understood by the certitude of hope, which is based on that of faith
and has a character sui generis which it is important to note.

Infused hope, no less than faith, is necessary to
salvation and perfection. Moreover, to have a generous interior life,
it is not sufficient to hope in God weakly and intermittently, as so
many Christians do. His often obscure and occasionally disconcerting
good pleasure must be loved, accepted with a spirit of filial
submission, and the divine help awaited with a firm, humble, and
persevering confidence.

DEFECTS TO BE AVOIDED

In connection with this virtue, we should avoid two
contrary defects: presumption and discouragement. By noting them at
the beginning of our discussion, we may see more clearly the true
nature of hope, which rises like a summit between these opposing
deviations.

There are two kinds of presumption: either man relies
excessively on his own powers, like the Pelagians, not asking as much
as he should for the help of God, not recalling sufficiently the
necessity of grace for every salutary act; or, on the other hand, he
expects from the divine mercy what God cannot grant: for example,
pardon without true repentance, or eternal life without any effort to
merit it. These two forms of presumption are mutually contradictory,
since the first presumes on our strength, whereas the second expects
from God what He has in no way promised.

Moreover, when trial and contradiction come, the
presumptuous fall into the opposite defect, discouragement, as if the
difficult good (bonum arduum), which is the object of hope,
becomes inaccessible. Discouragement might lead to spiritual sloth,
to acedia, which makes a man judge the work of sanctification too
difficult and turns him away from every effort in this direction. He
might thus even fall into despair. Many souls oscillate thus between
presumption and discouragement, and never succeed in arriving, at
least practically, at a true notion of Christian hope and in living
by it as they should.

THE TRUE NATURE OF
CHRISTIAN HOPE

Less is said about the virtue of hope than about
faith and charity. Yet hope is of great importance. Most certainly
Christian hope, as an infused and theological virtue, is essentially
supernatural, and consequently immensely surpasses the natural desire
to be happy and also a natural knowledge of the divine goodness.

By infused hope we tend toward eternal life, toward
supernatural beatitude, which is nothing less than the possession of
God: seeing God immediately as He sees Himself, loving Him as He
loves Himself. We tend toward Him, relying on the divine help which
He has promised us. The formal motive of hope is not our effort, it
is God our Helper (Deus auxiliator et auxilians), according to
His mercy, His promises, His omnipotence.437

Thus we desire God for ourselves, but first for
Himself; for He is the last End of the act of hope, which should,
moreover, be vivified by charity:438
in other words, by hope, we desire God, our last End, not by
subordinating Him to ourselves, like the food necessary to our
subsistence, but by subordinating ourselves to Him. Thus it is
evident, in contradistinction to the teaching of the quietists, that
hope, although inferior to charity, contains nothing inordinate. It
is a lofty virtue, though not the greatest of all.

Since, in fact, among the moral virtues, acquired
magnanimity, and especially infused magnanimity, has a high place, so
far as it makes us tend to great things (as we see in the founders of
religious orders, in their works and struggles); with even greater
reason, infused hope is a lofty virtue that makes us tend not only
toward great things, but also toward God Himself to be possessed for
eternity. This truth is emphasized by the fact that hope does not
make us desire only an inferior degree of supernatural beatitude, but
eternal life itself without fixing the degree. Indeed it leads us to
advance always more generously toward God by giving us a greater
desire for Him.

THE CERTITUDE OF HOPE

In this tendency of hope toward eternal life, there
is at one and the same time a mystery still unknown and a certitude,
about the nature of which some are deceived. St. Thomas explains it
clearly, as he also explains the different types of certitude: those
of knowledge,439
faith,440
prudence,441
and the gift of wisdom.442

He raises first the following objection:443
No man can be certain of his salvation without a special revelation,444
which is rare; it seems, therefore, that hope cannot be certain.
Moreover, it is not true that all who hope will be saved; it happens
that some among them become discouraged in time and finally are lost.
It seems, therefore, that hope is not truly certain.

In this problem, there is the element of the unknown,
a mystery; yet hope remains certain. This mystery with its light and
shade is one of the most beautiful in Christian teaching. As St.
Thomas shows clearly, the certitude of hope differs from that of
faith since it is not a certitude of the intellect, but a certitude
shared in the will and in its aspect as a tendency. “Certitude,”
says the holy doctor, “is essentially in the cognitive faculty;
but it is also by participation in all that is moved infallibly to
its end by the cognitive power. . . . In this way we say that nature
works with certainty, since it is moved by the divine intellect which
moves everything with certainty to its end (the bee builds surely its
hive and makes honey). . . . Thus too, hope tends with certitude to
its end, as though sharing in the certitude of faith, which is in the
cognitive faculty.”445
Likewise, in the order of human affairs, when we have taken the train
for Rome, without being absolutely sure of arriving, we are certain
of going in the right direction, and we hope to reach the end of our
journey.

In other words, by certain hope we have not as yet
the certitude of our future salvation, which is not revealed to us
(for that we would need a special revelation), but we tend certainly
toward salvation, under the infallible direction of faith and
according to the promises of God, “who never commands the
impossible, but who orders us to do what lies in our power and to ask
for help for what we cannot do.”446
The certitude of Christian hope is not, therefore, as yet the
certitude of salvation, but it is the firmest kind of certitude that
we are tending toward salvation. From this statement spring many
practical conclusions on the qualities or properties of Christian
hope, which should grow in us with hope.

THE QUALITIES OF
CHRISTIAN HOPE

How should we hope in God to avoid the twofold
presumption that we have spoken of and the discouragement that often
follows it? The Council of Trent tells us: “All should have a
very firm confidence in the help of God. For if men do not fail to
correspond to divine grace, as God Himself has begun the work of
salvation in us, He will finish it, working in us ‘both to will
and to accomplish.’447
However, ‘He that thinketh himself to stand, let him take heed
lest he fall’448
and ‘with fear and trembling work out his salvation,’449
In labors, vigils, prayer, alms, fasts, purity,!450
according to these words of the Apostle: ‘For if you live
according to the flesh, you shall die: but if by the Spirit you
mortify the deeds of the flesh, you shall live.’ “451

From this admirable doctrine it follows that
Christian hope should have two qualities or properties: it should be
laborious to avoid the presumption which expects the divine reward
without working for it; and it should be firm, invincible, to avoid
discouragement.

Hope should be laborious because it tends toward a
possible, difficult good, but a difficult, arduous future good, which
is the object of merit. We must work at our salvation, first of all,
to preserve in ourselves a living hope and not a vain presumption. We
must work in the spirit of humility and abnegation to preserve a keen
desire for eternal life, for God, our beatitude, a desire whose ardor
would be destroyed by the intensity of contrary desires, like those
of earthly joys and of ambition. This keen desire for heaven, this
ardent desire for God, is too rare even among good Christians. And
yet, if there is one thing we should desire with a holy ardor, is it
not the divine union? What will we desire ardently, therefore, if we
do not have a keen desire for God?

Furthermore, we must work to merit eternal beatitude:
to see God as He sees Himself and to love Him as He loves Himself.
Without doubt, we need grace to attain this end; but it is given to
us, says St. Augustine, not that we may do nothing, but that we may
work with continually increasing generosity until the end: “He
that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved.”452
“For he also that striveth for the mastery is not crowned,
except he strive lawfully.”453
We must work to remove the obstacles of concupiscence, of sloth,
pride, dissension, ambition, and to observe the precepts with always
greater perfection according to the spirit of our vocation.

Laborious hope together with the gift of fear, or the
fear of sin, saves us from presumption. By this virtue and this gift
of fear, is preserved the equilibrium of the spirit in divine things,
as a little lower in the order of the virtues, not theological but
moral, spiritual balance is safeguarded by humility and magnanimity,
which are like the two sides of a scale, that we may escape falling
either into pride or into pusillanimity.454

Lastly, in the midst of difficulties that may present
themselves until death, and even until our entrance into heaven, hope
should be most firm and invincible. It should not be broken by
temptations, trials, or the sight of our sins. It should never yield
to temptations coming from the world, the flesh, or the devil: “If
God be for us, who is against us?”455
God never commands the impossible; more than that, as St. Paul says:
“God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above
that which you are able; but will make also with temptation issue,
that you may be able to bear it.”456

Hope should not be broken either by the trials which
the Lord sends to purify us and to make us work for the salvation of
souls. In time of trial we should not forget that the formal motive
of hope is God our Helper,Deus auxilians, according to His
mercy, promises, and omnipotence. Because Job had the virtue of hope,
he declared: “Although He should kill me, I will trust in
Him.”457
And in the Epistle to the Romans we read: “Who against hope
believed in hope; that he [Abraham] might be made the father of many
nations, according to that which was said to him: ‘So shall thy
seed be.’ “458Contrary
to every human hope, in spite of his great age, he hoped, and even
prepared himself for the immolation of his son Isaac, the son of
promise, from whom his posterity was to be born.

The aim of the purification of hope is to free the
virtue from all alloy of inordinate self-love, but not to lead us to
the sacrifice of the desire of our salvation, as the quietists
declared. Such a sacrifice would be equivalent to renouncing our love
of God above all for all eternity, and, by sacrificing hope under the
pretext of pure love, we would also sacrifice charity. We must, on
the contrary, hope against all hope.

Finally, confidence should not be broken by the sight
and the memory of our sins. Therefore St. Catherine of Siena used to
say: “Never consider your past sins except in the light of
infinite mercy, so that the memory of them may not discourage you,
but may lead you to place your confidence in the infinite value of
the Savior’s merits.”

St. Teresa of the Child Jesus stated that her immense
confidence in God did not come from the knowledge of her innocence,
but from the thought of the infinite mercy and infinite merits of the
Savior, and that, even if she were the greatest wretch on earth, her
confidence in God would not for that reason be diminished. This is a
magnificent way of stating that the formal motive of hope, a
theological virtue, is not our effort or our innocence, but God our
Helper, Deus auxilians, helpful Mercy.

ADMIRABLE EFFECTS OF
LIVING HOPE CONFIRMED BY TRIALS

After various trials, hope, which has been greatly
strengthened, surmounts all obstacles. According to St. Paul: “We
. . . glory in the hope of the glory of the sons of God. And not only
so; but we glory also in tribulation, knowing that tribulation
worketh patience; and patience trial; and trial hope; and hope
confoundeth not, because the charity of God is poured forth in our
hearts by the Holy Ghost who is given to us.”459

Commenting on St. Paul’s words, St. Thomas
says: “St. Paul shows us first of all the grandeur of hope by
the grandeur of the thing hoped for (that is, eternal life), then the
power, the vehemence of hope. In fact, he who strongly hopes for
something, willingly bears for that reason difficulties and
bitterness. And therefore the sign that we have a strong hope in
Christ is that we glory not only in the thought of future glory, but
in our tribulations and the trials which we have to bear. ‘Through
many tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God.’460
Moreover, the Apostle St. James says: ‘My brethren, count it
all joy, when you shall fall into divers temptations, knowing that
the trying of your faith worketh patience.’461
And from the fact that a man bears tribulation patiently, he is
rendered excellent, probatus. We read of the just in the Book
of Wisdom: ‘Though in the sight of men they suffered torments,
their hope is full of immortality. Afflicted in few things, in many
they shall be well rewarded: because God hath tried them, and found
them worthy of Himself. As gold in the furnace He hath proved them,
and as a victim of a holocaust He hath received them.’462
Thus trial causes hope to grow, and hope does not deceive us, for God
does not abandon those who trust Him. ‘No one hath hoped in the
Lord, and hath been confounded.’463
It is evident that the Lord will not refuse Himself to those who love
Him, to those to whom He has already given His Son. . . . He has
prepared eternal beatitude for those who love Him above all else.”464

From what has just been said we perceive that,
contrary to the opinion held by the quietists, in great trials,
instead of sacrificing our desire of salvation, we must “hope
against all hope” while loving God for Himself. Thus charity
increases greatly; it becomes pure love which, far from destroying
confidence, vivifies it.

Certainly these trials serve to purify hope of all
self-love, of the desire of our own perfection, so far as it is ours.
A servant of God who had desired to become a saint later expressed
her desire under a less personal and more objective form: “Lord,
may Your kingdom come more and more profoundly in me.” She was
happy not to have the reputation of being a saint, happy to be but
little esteemed by those about her; she thus aspired truly to be
always more closely united to our Lord, to be more loved by Him. Thus
hope grew as it was being purified.

So Abraham, the father of believers, hoped, when he
was tried and prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac. He did not cease
to believe that this child was the son of promise, that his posterity
would be greatly blessed, “accounting that God is able to raise
up even from the dead.”465

St. Philip Neri used to pray: “I thank Thee
with my whole heart, Lord God, that things do not go as I should like
them to, but as Thou dost wish. It is better that they should go
according to Thy way, which is better than mine.”

St. Nicholas of Flue admirably expressed in a prayer
the union of firmest hope and of pure love: “Lord, take from me
all that hinders me from drawing near to Thee; give me all that will
lead me to Thee. Take me from myself and give me entirely to
Thyself.” We can also say, as an expression of hope and pure
love: “Give Thyself, Lord, entirely to me, that I may love Thee
purely and forever.”

As a practical conclusion, let us remember that in
our lives there are two parallel series of daily facts: that of the
outward events which succeed one another from morning to night, and
that of the actual graces which are offered to us and even bestowed
on us from moment to moment that we may draw from these occurrences,
whether pleasurable or painful, the greatest spiritual profit. If we
thought often of this fact, there would be realized increasingly in
our lives St. Paul’s statement: “To them that love God
all things work together unto good,”466
even annoyances, rebuffs, and contradictions, which are so many
occasions of lifting our hearts toward God in a spirit of faith and
confidence in Him.

St. Francis de Sales says in his Second Conference on
Hope: “Although we do not feel confidence in God, we must not
fail to make acts of hope. Distrust of ourselves and of our own
strength should be accompanied by humility and faith, which obtain
the grace of confidence in God. The more unfortunate we are, the more
we should have confidence in Him who sees our state, and who can come
to our assistance. No one trusts in God without reaping the fruits of
his hope. The soul should remain tranquil and rely on Him who can
give the increase to what as been sown and planted. We must not cease
to labor, but in toiling we must trust in God for the success of our
works.”

Chapter 19: The love of Conformity to the Divine Will

Having spoken of the spirit of faith and of trust in
God, we must consider what the progress of charity should be in the
illuminative way, that the soul may pass from the mercenary or
interested love of the imperfect to perfect charity. Consequently we
shall discuss the signs of imperfect love, then those of the progress
of charity, the relations of charity with our natural dispositions,
and its progressive conformity to the divine will.

THE SIGNS OF IMPERFECT
LOVE

St. Catherine of Siena indicates clearly in her
Dialogue467
the signs of mercenary love; we quoted this passage earlier in this
work.468
The saint says in substance that love remains imperfect in the just
man when, in the service of God, he is still too much attached to his
own interests, when he still seeks himself and has an excessive
desire of his own satisfaction.

The same imperfection is then found in his love of
his neighbor. In loving his neighbor, he seeks self, takes
complacency, for example, in his own natural activity, in which there
is rash haste, egoistical eagerness, occasionally followed by
coldness when his love is not returned, and he believes that he sees
in others ingratitude, a failure to appreciate the benefits he
bestows on them.

In the same chapter the saint points out that the
imperfection of this love of God and souls is clearly shown by the
fact that, as soon as we are deprived of the consolations that we had
in God, this love no longer suffices us and can no longer subsist; it
languishes and often grows colder and colder as God withdraws His
spiritual consolations and sends us struggles and contradictions in
order to exercise us in virtue. Nevertheless He acts thus only to put
our inordinate self-love to death and to cause the charity that we
received at baptism to grow. This charity should become a living
flame of love and notably elevate all our legitimate affections.

THE NATURE OF CHARITY AND
THE MARKS OF ITS PROGRESS

The signs of the progress of charity are deduced from
its very nature. Scripture tells us in several places that the just
man is the “friend of God.”469
St. Thomas,470
explaining ‘these words of Scripture, shows us that charity is
essentially a love of friendship we should have for God because of
His infinite goodness which radiates on us, vivifying us and drawing
us to Himself.

Every true friendship, St. Thomas tells us, implies
three qualities: it is first of all a love of benevolence by which a
man wishes good to another, as to himself; in this it differs from
the love of concupiscence or of covetousness, by which one desires a
good for oneself, as one desires a fruit or the bread necessary to
subsistence. We ought to wish our friends the good which is suitable
for them, and we should wish that God may reign profoundly over minds
and hearts.

Moreover, every true friendship presupposes a love of
mutual benevolence; it is not sufficient that it exist on the part of
one person only. The two friends should wish each other well. And the
more elevated the good which they wish each other, the more noble is
this friendship. It is based on virtue when friends wish each other
not only what is pleasant or useful like the goods of earth and
fortune, but what is virtuous—fidelity to duty, progress in the
love of moral and spiritual good.

Lastly, to constitute a true friendship, this mutual
love of benevolence does not suffice. We may, in fact, have
benevolence for a person at a distance, whom we know only through
hearsay, and that person may have the same benevolence for us; we are
not, however, friends for that reason. Friendship requires in
addition a community of life (convivere). It implies that people know
each other, love each other, live together, spiritually at least, by
the exchange of most secret thoughts and feelings. Friendship thus
conceived tends to a very close union of thought, feeling, willing,
prayer, sacrifice, and action.

These three characters of true friendship—the
love of benevolence, mutual love, and community of life—are
precisely found in the charity which unites us to God and to souls in
Him.

The natural inclination which already subsists in the
depths of our will, in spite of original sin, inclines us to love
God, the Author of our nature, more than ourselves and above all, as
in an organism the part loves the whole more than itself, as the hand
exposes itself naturally to preserve the body and especially the
head.471
But this natural inclination, attenuated by original sin, cannot,
without the grace which heals (gratia sanans), lead us to an
efficacious love of God above all things.472

Far above this natural inclination, we received in
baptism sanctifying grace and charity with faith and hope. And
charity is precisely this love of mutual benevolence which makes us
wish God, the Author of grace, the good that is suitable to Him, His
supreme reign over souls, as He wishes our good for time and
eternity. Such a desire is indeed a friendship based on community of
life, for God has communicated to us a participation in His intimate
life by giving us grace, the seed of eternal life.473
By grace, we are “born of God,” as we read in the
prologue of St. John’s Gospel; we resemble God as children
resemble their father. And this community of life implies a permanent
union, which is at times only habitual, for example, during sleep; at
others, when we make an act of love of God, it is actual. Then there
is truly community of life, the meeting of the paternal love of God
for His child, and of the love of the child for the Father who
vivifies it and blesses it. This is especially true when, by a
special inspiration, the Lord inclines us to an act of infused love,
which we could not make with common, actual grace. There is a
spiritual communion, the prelude of the spiritual communion of
heaven, which will no longer be measured by time, but by the
indivisible instant of changeless eternity.

Such is indeed the friendship with God which begins
on earth. Because Abraham had this love, he was called the friend of
God. For the same reason the Book of Wisdom tells us that the just
man lives in the divine friendship, and Christ says: “I will
not now call you servants . . . but I have called you friends.”
By his analysis of the distinctive marks of friendship, St. Thomas
only explains these divine words; he does not deduce a new truth; he
explains revealed truth and enables us to penetrate it deeply.474

Charity, even in its least degree, makes us love God
more than ourselves and more than His gifts with an efficacious love
of esteem, because God is infinitely better than we and than every
created gift. Efficacious love of esteem is not always felt, for
example, in aridity; and at the beginning it has not yet the
intensity or spontaneity that it has in the perfect, and especially
in the blessed. A good Christian mother feels her love for her child,
whom she holds in her arms, more than her love for God, whom she does
not see; yet, if she is truly Christian, she loves the Lord with an
efficacious love of esteem more than her child. For this reason,
theologians distinguish commonly between appreciative love (love of
esteem) and intensive love, which is generally greater for loved ones
whom we see than for those who are at a distance. But, with the
progress of charity, the love of esteem for God becomes more intense
and is known as zeal; in heaven its impetuosity will exceed that of
all our strongest affections.

Such is the nature of the virtue of charity; it is
the principle of a love of God that is like the flowing of our hearts
toward Him who draws us and vivifies us. Thus we ultimately find a
great gratification in Him, desiring that He may reign more and more
profoundly in our souls and in the souls of others. For this love of
God, knowledge is not necessary; to know our heavenly Father through
faith suffices. We cannot cease to love Him without beginning our own
destruction, and we can cease to love Him by any mortal sin.

The efficacious love of esteem of God above all else,
which may subsist in great aridity of the sensible faculties, is very
much opposed to sentimentality, which is the affectation of a love
one does not have.

Since such is the nature of charity, what are the
indications of its progress? There are, first of all, the signs of
the state of grace: (1) not to be conscious of any mortal sin;(2) not
to seek earthly things, pleasures, wealth, honors;(3) to take
pleasure in the presence of God, to love to think of Him, adore Him,
pray to Him, thank Him, ask His pardon, talk to Him, aspire to Him.475
To these signs must be added the following:(4) to wish to please God
more than all those whom one loves;(5) to love one’s neighbor
effectively, in spite of the defects which are in him, as they are in
us, and to love him because he is the child of God and is beloved by
Him. Then one loves God in one’s neighbor, and one’s
neighbor in God. Christ says: “By this shall all men know that
you are My disciples, if you have love one for another.”476

These signs are summed up in St. Paul’s words:
“Charity is patient, is kind; charity envieth not, dealeth not
perversely, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, seeketh not her own,
is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in
iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth; beareth all things, believeth
all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”477

Happy is the heart that loves God in this manner,
without any other pleasure than that which it has in pleasing God! If
the soul is faithful, it will one day taste the delights of this love
and take an unequaled happiness in Him who is limitless good, the
infinite plenitude of good, into which the soul may plunge and lose
itself as in a spiritual ocean without ever meeting with any
obstacle. Thus the just man begins to love God with a love of esteem
(appreciative love) above all things, and he tends to love Him above
all intensively with the ardent zeal which perseveres in aridity in
the midst of trials and persecutions.

THE LOVE OF GOD AND OUR
NATURAL DISPOSITIONS

But, it will be objected, there are harsh, rude,
bitter characters, little inclined to affection. How, therefore, does
what we have just said apply to them? St. Francis de Sales replies to
this objection as St. Thomas does, stating that one cannot admit,
without falling into the naturalism of the Pelagians, that the
distribution of divine love is made to men according to their natural
qualities and dispositions.478
St. Francis de Sales adds:

The
supernatural love which God by His goodness pours into our hearts . .
. is in the supreme point of the spirit . . . , which is independent
of every natural character. . . . It is, nevertheless, true that
naturally loving souls, once they are well purified of the love of
creatures, do marvels in holy love, love finding a great ease in
dilating itself in all the faculties of their hearts. Thence proceeds
a very agreeable sweetness, which does not appear in those whose
souls are harsh, melancholy, and untractable.

Nevertheless,
if two persons, one of whom is loving and gentle, the other naturally
fretful and bitter, have an equal charity, they will doubtless love
God equally, but not similarly. The heart that is naturally gentle
will love more easily, amiably, sweetly, but not more solidly, or
more perfectly. Thus the love which will arise among the thorns and
repugnances of a harsh and cold nature, will be braver and more
glorious, as the other will be more delightful and charming.479

It matters
little, then, whether one is naturally disposed to love when it is a
question of a supernatural love by which one acts only
supernaturally. Only, Theotime, I would gladly say to all men: Oh,
mortals! If your hearts are inclined to love, why do you not aspire
to celestial and divine love? But, if you are harsh and bitter of
heart, poor souls, since you are deprived of natural love, why do you
not aspire to supernatural love, which will lovingly be given you by
Him who calls you in so holy a manner to love Him?480

From this
doctrine on the relation of the life of grace and of our natural
dispositions spring consequences of great importance in mystical
theology.481

PROGRESSIVE CONFORMITY TO
THE SIGNIFIED DIVINE WILL

The love of conformity consists in wishing all that
the divine will signifies to us as being its intention.482
This will is signified to us by the precepts and by the counsels
conformable to our vocation, and by events, some of which are painful
and unexpected.483
We are speaking of the signified divine will when we say in the Our
Father: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Thus we see what progressive conformity to the divine will should be.

To love God in prosperity is good, provided that one
does not love prosperity as much or more than God Himself. In any
case, this is only an inferior degree of love, easy to all. When
facility in the practice of duty ceases, to love the divine will in
its commandments, counsels, inspirations, to live by it, constitutes
a second degree which is more perfect and which recalls the words of
Jesus: “My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me.”484

But we must also imitate Christ in loving God in
painful and unbearable things, in daily vexations and tribulations,
which His providence permits in our lives for a higher good. And,
indeed, we cannot truly love God unless we love these tribulations,
not in themselves, but for the spiritual good which results from
patience in bearing them. Consequently, to love sufferings and
afflictions for the love of God is the highest degree of holy
charity. Our adversities are then converted into good, for, as St.
Paul says: “To them that love God [and who persevere in this
love], all things work together unto good.”485

St. Francis de Sales486
remarks on the subject of ardent love that, according to Plato, it is
poor, ragged, naked, pale, emaciated, homeless, always indigent; it
sleeps out of doors on the hard ground, for it makes a man leave
everything for the one he loves; it causes him to lose sleep and to
aspire to an ever closer union. Plato spoke thus of natural love;
but, adds the holy Bishop of Geneva, all of this is still truer of
divine love when it wounds a soul deeply. Therefore, St. Paul wrote:
“Even unto this hour we both hunger and thirst, and are naked,
and are buffeted, and have no fixed abode. . . . We are made as the
refuse of this world.”487

“Who reduced him to this state,” asks St.
Francis de Sales, “except love? It was love which cast St.
Francis of Assisi naked before his bishop and made him die naked on
the ground. It was love that made him a beggar all his life. It was
love that sent the great St. Francis Xavier, poor, indigent,
tattered, here and there in the Indies; . . . it was love which
reduced the great cardinal, St. Charles, archbishop of Milan, to such
poverty . . . that he was (in his episcopal palace) like a dog in the
house of his master.”

The love of conformity to the divine will is like a
fire, the flames of which are the more beautiful and bright as they
are fed with more delicate matter, for example, with drier, purer,
and better wood. For this reason, says the same saint, every love
that does not have its origin in the Savior’s passion is
frivolous and dangerous.488
The death of Jesus, the supreme expression of His love for us, is the
strongest incentive to our love of Him. Nothing satisfies our hearts
as does the love of Jesus Christ, by the way of perfect spoliation
which unites the soul very closely to the divine will.489

The love of conformity to the divine will signified
by the precepts and counsels, and by events, enables us to abandon
ourselves to the divine will of good pleasure, not yet manifested, on
which our future depends.490
In this filial abandonment there is faith, hope, and love of God; it
may be expressed as follows: “Lord, I trust in Thee!”
From this comes the motto: “Fidelity and abandonment,”
which preserves the balance between activity and passivity, above
slothful quiet and restless and fruitless agitation. Abandonment is
the way to follow; daily and hourly fidelity, the steps to take on
this way. By fidelity in the light of the commandments, we enter the
obscure mystery of the divine good pleasure, which is that of
predestination.

We certainly do not possess all the love we need;
therefore, the saints tell us, it is folly to expend our love
inordinately upon creatures. The cooling of divine love comes from
venial sin or from affection to venial sin. On the contrary, a
generous act of charity merits and obtains for us immediately the
increase of this infused virtue, which vivifies all the others and
renders their acts meritorious. The increase of charity prepares us
to see God better eternally and to love Him more intimately forever.

We should, therefore, deem as nothing all that we
give to obtain the priceless treasure of the love of God, of ardent
love. He alone gives to the human heart the interior charity that it
lacks. Without Him our hearts are cold; we experience only the
passing warmth of an intermittent fever.

When we give our love to God, He always gives us His.
Indeed He forestalls us for, without His grace, we could not rise
above our self-love; only grace, for which we should ask incessantly,
just as we always need air in order to breathe, gives us true
generosity.

During the journey toward eternity, we must never say
that we have sufficient love of God. We should make continual
progress in love. The traveler (viator) who advances toward God
progresses with steps of love, as St. Gregory the Great says, that
is, by ever higher acts of love. God desires that we should thus love
Him more each day. The song of the journey toward eternity is a hymn
of love, that of the holy liturgy, which is the voice of the Church;
it is the song of the spouse of Christ.

It is not unfitting to tremble at times in the
presence of God, but love must predominate. We must fear God filially
through love, and not love Him through fear; therefore filial fear,
that of sin, grows with charity, whereas servile fear, that of
punishment, diminishes.

Our love of God grows by our carrying the cross. St.
Francis de Sales declared: “The most generous and courageous
characters are formed in crosses and afflictions, and cowardly souls
are pleased only in prosperity. Moreover, the pure love of God is
practiced far more easily in adversities than in comforts, for
tribulation has nothing amiable about it except the hand of God who
sends it . . . whereas prosperity has of itself attractions which
charm our senses.”491

As the love of conformity to the divine will grows,
it renders sweet the sufferings on which it feeds; the soul then
walks with assurance according to the words of the Savior: “He
that followeth Me walketh not in darkness, but shall have the light
of life.”492

The love of God grows each time we mortify self-love.
To desire ardently divine love, we must, therefore, retrench all that
cannot be quickened by it. Growing thus, the love of God renders the
virtues eminently more pleasing to God than they are by their own
nature; the meritorious degree of their acts depends upon the degree
of love. Thereby the accomplishment of our duties of state can be
greatly sanctified and not a minute will be lost for eternity.493

If a person has had a high degree of charity and has
never sinned mortally, but his love has grown cool through some
attachment to venial sin, he still keeps the treasure of lofty
charity494
although he has lost its radiation or fervor like a golden chalice
that has become tarnished and covered with dust, or like a flame in a
clouded glass shade. Therefore, it is important to remove as quickly
as possible this dust, these spots, and restore to charity its fervor
and radiation.

As a practical conclusion, let us consider how we can
subordinate all our affections to the love of God. St. Francis de
Sales tells us: “I can combat the desire of riches and mortal
pleasures either by the scorn that they deserve or by the desire of
immortal pleasures; and by this second means, sensual and earthly
love will be destroyed by heavenly love. . . . Thus divine love
supplants and subdues the affections and passions,”495
or places them at its service.

The love of conformity to the divine will leads to
the love of complacency by which we rejoice over everything that
contributes to the glory of God: we rejoice that He possesses
infinite wisdom, limitless beatitude, that the whole universe is a
manifestation of His goodness, and that the elect will glorify Him
eternally. The love of complacency or of fruition is more
particularly felt under a special inspiration of God: in this sense
it is infused and passive; whereas the love of conformity of which we
have spoken, may exist without this special inspiration, with common
actual grace; from this point of view, it is called active.

For this reason certain authors have held that St.
John of the Cross proposed in The Ascent of Mount Carmel the
union of the love of conformity as the end of the ascetical life, and
in The Dark Night andThe Living Flame the union of the
passive love of enjoyment as the end of the mystical life.

We, as well as many contemporary writers,496
think, on the contrary, that St. John of the Cross preserves the
unity of the spiritual life by speaking, in all his works, of only
one end of the normal development of the life of grace on earth, and
of only one union and transformation of love, which, it is true,
presents itself under two aspects. The first of these aspects is the
entire conformity of our will to the will of God; but this active
gift of self is normally accompanied by the communication of the
divine life passively received, which is the second aspect. Therefore
the normal term of the spiritual life is a state at once ascetical
and mystical, in which the perfection of active love, manifested by
the virtues, is joined to infused or passive love, which leads the
soul to the summit of union. The way leading to this union should,
consequently, be not only active but also passive; it implies both
the active purification described in The Ascent and the
passive purification spoken of in The Dark Night. They are two
aspects of purification: in other words, what the soul should do, and
what it should receive and bear. Thus the unity of the spiritual life
is maintained, and perfect union is the normal prelude of the life of
heaven.497

Chapter 20: Fraternal Charity, Radiation of the Love of God

“And
the glory which Thou hast given Me, I have given to them; that they
may be one, as We also are one.”John 17:22

The love of God, of which we have spoken, corresponds
to the supreme precept; but there is a second precept which springs
from the first: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,”498
for the love of God. The love of neighbor is presented to us by our
Lord as the necessary consequence, the radiation, the sign, of the
love of God: “Love one another as I have loved you. . . . By
this shall all men know that you are My disciples.”499
St. John even says: “If any man say, I love God, and hateth his
brother, he is a liar.”500

In the illuminative way of proficients, fraternal
charity should therefore be one of the greatest signs of the progress
of the love of God. Here we must insist on the formal motive for
which charity should be practiced, so that it may not be confounded
with, for example, simple amiability or natural comradeship, or with
liberalism, which assumes the exterior appearances of charity but
differs greatly from this infused virtue. Liberalism disregards the
value of faith and of divine truth, whereas charity presupposes them
as its basis. To see clearly the formal motive of fraternal charity,
not only in a theoretical and abstract manner, but in a concrete and
experimental manner, we shall examine why our love of God should
extend to our neighbor, and how actually to make progress in
fraternal charity. That we may look at the matter from a supernatural
point of view, we shall consider the love of Jesus for us.

WHY OUR LOVE OF GOD
SHOULD EXTEND TO OUR NEIGHBOR

Fraternal charity, which the Lord demands of us,
differs immensely from the natural tendency which inclines us to do
good in order to please others, which leads us also to love the kind,
to hate those who do us evil, and to remain indifferent to others.
Natural love makes us love our neighbor for his natural good
qualities and for the benefits we receive from him; we find this love
in good comradeship. The motive of charity is quite different and
very much higher; the proof of it is in Christ’s words: “Love
your enemies: do good to them that hate you: and pray for them that
persecute and calumniate you. . . . For if you love them that love
you, what reward shall you have? Do not even the publicans this? . .
. Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is
perfect.”501

We should love our enemies with the same
supernatural, theological love as we have for God; for there are not
two virtues of charity, the one toward God, the other toward our
neighbor. There is only one virtue of charity, the first act of which
has God, loved above all else, as its object; and its secondary acts
have ourselves and our neighbor as their object. Hence this virtue is
very superior to the great virtue of justice, and not only to
commutative and distributive justice, but to legal or social justice
and to equity.

But how is it possible for us to have a divine love
for men, who, like ourselves, are so often imperfect? Theology
replies with St. Thomas502
by a simple example: he who greatly loves his friend, loves the
children of this friend with the same love; he loves them because he
loves their father, and for his sake he wishes them well. For love of
their father, he will, if necessary, come to their aid and pardon
them if they have offended him.

Therefore, since all men are children of God by
grace, or at least called to become so, we should love all men, even
our enemies, with a supernatural love and desire the same eternal
beatitude for them as for ourselves. We ought all to travel toward
the same end, to make the same journey toward eternity, under the
impulsion of the same grace, to live by the same love. Charity is
thus a supernatural bond of perfection which unites us, as it should,
to God and to our neighbor. It unites hearts at no matter what
distance they may be; it leads us to love God in man and man in God.

The supernatural love of charity is rare among men
because many seek their own interest primarily, and more readily
comprehend the formula: “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a
tooth.”

The precept of fraternal charity was greatly
neglected before the time of Christ; consequently He had to insist on
it. He did so from the very beginning of His preaching in the Sermon
on the Mount,503
and He continually reverted to it, especially in His last words
before He died.504
St. John, in his Epistles, and St. Paul repeatedly remind us of this
precept. They show us that when charity enters the heart, it is
followed by all the other virtues; it is meek, patient, and humble.505

But to love our neighbor supernaturally so far as he
is the child of God or is called to become so, we must look upon him
with the eyes of faith and tell ourselves that this person whose
temperament and character are opposed to ours is “born, not of
blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but [as
we are] of God,” or called to be born of Him, to share in the
same divine life, in the same beatitude as we. Especially in a
Christian milieu, we can and ought to tell ourselves in regard to
persons who are less congenial to us that their souls are, in spite
of everything, temples of the Holy Ghost, that they are members of
the mystical body of Christ, nearer perhaps to His heart than we are;
that they are living stones whom God works that He may give them a
place in the heavenly Jerusalem. How can we fail to love our
neighbor, if we truly love God, our common Father? If we do not love
our neighbor, our love of God is a lie. On the contrary, if we love
him, it is a sign that we truly love God, the Author of the grace
that vivifies us.

A young Jew whom we knew, the son of a Vienna banker,
one day had the opportunity to take vengeance on his family’s
greatest enemy; as he was about to do so, he remembered the following
words of Scripture, which he was in the habit of reading from time o
time: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who
trespass against us.” Then, instead of taking vengeance, he
fully pardoned his enemy and immediately received the grace of faith.
He believed in the entire Gospel, and a short time afterward entered
the Church and became a priest and religious. The precept of
fraternal charity had illumined him.

Even about an adversary we must tell ourselves that
we can and ought to love him with the same supernatural, theological
love as we have for the divine Persons; for we ought to love in him
the image of God, the divine life that he possesses or is called to
receive, his supernatural being, the realization of the divine idea
which presides over his destiny, the glory which he is called to give
to God in time and eternity.

The following objection has occasionally been raised
against this lofty doctrine: But is this truly loving man; is it not
loving God only in man, as one admires a diamond in a jewel-case? Man
naturally wishes to be loved for himself, but as man he cannot demand
a divine love.

In reality, charity does not love God only in man,
but man in God. and man himself for God. It truly loves what man
should be, an eternal part of the mystical body of Christ, and it
does all in its power to make him attain heaven. It loves even what
man already is through grace; and, if he has not grace, it loves his
nature in him, not so far as it is fallen, unbalanced, unruly,
hostile to grace, but so far as it is the image of God and capable of
receiving the divine graft of grace that will increase its
resemblance to God. In short, charity loves man himself, but for God,
for the glory that he is called to give to God in time and eternity.

EFFICACY OF THE LOVE OF
CHARITY

Whatever naturalism may say, in loving our neighbor
in God and for God we do not love him less, we love him much more and
far more perfectly. We do not love his defects; we put up with them;
but we love in man all that is noble in him, all in him that is
called to grow and to blossom in eternal life.

Far from being a Platonic and inefficacious love of
our neighbor, charity, in growing, disposes us to judge him well and
to condescend to his wishes in whatever is not contrary to the
commandments of God. Condescension thus born of charity makes
indifferent things good, and the painful things that we impose on
ourselves for our neighbor, fruitful. There is great charity in thus
preserving union with all by avoiding clashes which might arise, or
by effecting a reconciliation as soon as possible. Charity that grows
has thus a radiating goodness; it makes us continually love not only
what is good for us, but what is good for our neighbor, even for our
enemies, and what is good from the superior point of view of God, by
desiring for others the goods which do not pass, and especially the
sovereign Good and its inamissible possession. St. Thomas sums up all
this briefly: “Now the aspect under which our neighbor is to be
loved, is God, since what we ought to love in our neighbor is that he
may be in God. Hence it is clear that it is specifically the same act
whereby we love God, and whereby we love our neighbor. Consequently
the habit of charity extends not only to the love of God, but also to
the love of our neighbor.”506

Thus sight perceives light first of all and by it the
seven colors of the rainbow. It could not perceive colors if it did
not see light. Likewise we could not supernaturally love the children
of God if we did not first supernaturally love God Himself, our
common Father.507

Whereas justice inclines us to wish good to another
inasmuch as he is another or distinct from us, charity makes us love
him as “another self,” an alter ego, with a love of truly
supernatural friendship, as the saints in heaven love one another.

THE COMPASS AND ORDER OF
CHARITY

Therefore our charity should be universal: it should
know no limits. It cannot exclude anyone on earth, in purgatory, or
in heaven. It stops only before hell. It is only the damned that we
cannot love, for they are no longer capable of becoming children of
God. They hate Him eternally; they do not ask for pardon or for the
grace to repent; hence they can no longer excite pity, for there is
no longer in them the faintest desire to rise again. However, says
St. Thomas, they are still the object of the divine mercy, in the
sense that they are punished less than they deserve,508
a fact that gladdens our charity, which extends even that far.

Beyond the certain fact of damnation (and we are not
certain of the damnation of anyone, except that of the fallen angels
and of the “son of perdition”), charity is due to all; it
knows no limits, it is broad, in a sense, like the heart of God. We
had examples of this breadth of charity in the first World War when,
on the battle front, a French boy at the point of death finished the
Hail Mary begun by a young German who had just died beside him. The
Blessed Virgin reunited these two youths, in spite of the harsh
opposition of the war, in order to introduce them both into the
supernal fatherland.

To be universal, charity does not have to be equal
for all, and its progress in the illuminative way shows increasingly
better what is called the order of charity, which admirably respects
and elevates the order dictated by nature. Thus we should love God
efficaciously above all else, at least with a love of esteem, if not
with a love that is felt. Next we should love our own soul, then that
of our neighbor, and finally our body, which we should sacrifice for
the salvation of a soul, especially when we are obliged by our office
to provide for it, as happens to those who have charge of souls. The
order of charity appears more clearly as this virtue grows in us. We
understand better and better that among our neighbors we should have
a greater love of esteem for those who are better, nearer to God,
although we love with a more sensible love those who are nearest to
us through blood, marriage, vocation, or friendship.509
We also distinguish increasingly better the shades of the different
friendships based on the bonds of family, country, or profession, or
on bonds of an entirely spiritual order.510

The scale of values which appears more and more in
this order of charity shows that God wishes to reign in our hearts,
without excluding the legitimate affections which can and ought to be
subordinated to the love we have for Him; then these affections are
vivified, ennobled, purified, rendered more generous. Consequently
the progress of charity” does away with that esprit de
corps, that collective egoism, that nosism which sometimes
recalls painfully the chauvinism of certain narrow patriots who
belittle their fatherland in their desire to magnify it. A spiritual
daughter of St. Francis de Sales, Mother Louise de Ballon, who
reformed the Bernardines and founded seventeen convents, used to say
on this subject: “I can belong only to one order by profession
and state; but I belong to all orders by inclination and love. . . .
I confess ingenuously that I have always been afflicted at seeing
monasteries envy each other . . . , at hearing some say that the good
of the children of St. Augustine should not be for those of St.
Benedict, and others say that the good of St. Benedict should not be
given to the disciples of St. Bernard. Is it not the blood of Jesus
Christ and not that of St. Augustine, St. Benedict, or St. Bernard,
which purchased for their religious all the good that they possess? O
my Lord! Establish solidly a good understanding among Your servants.
. . . The different orders are composed of different bodies, but they
should have only one heart, only one soul, as it was written of the
first Christians.”511

Without this broad charity, we would fall into the
defect, into the narrowness which St. Paul blamed in the Corinthians,
some of whom said: “I indeed am of Paul; and another, I am of
Apollo,” to which the saint replied: “What then is
Apollo, and what is Paul? The ministers of Him whom you have
believed; and to everyone as the Lord hath given. I have planted,
Apollo watered, but God gave the increase. Therefore, neither he that
planteth is anything, nor he that watereth; but God that giveth the
increase.”512

In the same epistle the great Apostle writes: “Is
Christ divided? Was Paul then crucified for you? Or were you baptized
in the name of Paul?”513
“Let no man therefore glory in men. For all things are yours,
whether it be Paul or Apollo or Cephas or the world or life or death
or things present or things to come; for all are yours; and you are
Christ’s; and Christ is God’s.”514

Such indeed, above all individual or collective
narrowness, is the admirable order of charity, as it should appear
increasingly in the disinterested proficient, whose heart should
enlarge in a sense, like the heart of God, by the very progress of
charity, which is truly a participation in the divine life, in
eternal love.

This growing charity ought to be not only affective
but effective, not only benevolent but beneficent. The lives of the
saints show that they understood the Master’s words: “This
is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”515
Christ loved us even to the death of the cross; the saints loved
their brethren even to the martyrdom of the heart, and often even to
giving the testimony of their blood.

Such is fraternal charity, the extension or radiation
of the love we should have for God. Similarly, humility in respect to
our neighbor is the extension of the virtue that leads us to humble
ourselves before God and before what is of God in all His works.

HOW TO MAKE PROGRESS IN
FRATERNAL CHARITY

Occasions of failing in fraternal charity present
themselves only too often even in the best surroundings; first of
all, because of the defects of all who, though tending to perfection,
have not reached it. Each of us is like a truncated pyramid that has
not yet its summit. Our neighbor often seems so to us, and we forget
that we appear in like manner to him; we see the mote in our
neighbor’s eye, and do not see the beam in our own.

Moreover, if, by an impossibility, all our defects
were suppressed before our entrance into heaven, occasions of clashes
and offenses would still subsist because of the diversity of
temperaments—bilious, nervous, lymphatic, or sanguine; by
reason of the diversity of characters—some inclined to
indulgence, others to severity; because of the diversity of
minds—some inclined to view things as a whole, others in the
minutest detail; by reason again of the difference in education;
because of nervous fatigue; and finally because of the demon, who
takes pleasure in causing division that he may destroy our Lord’s
work of truth, unity, and peace.

The devil intervenes more directly in certain
excellent centers in order to obstruct the great good that might be
done there. He seeks much more directly to disturb such groups than
he does less good or positively evil centers, where he already rules
through the maxims there diffused and the examples found there. As we
see in the Gospel and the lives of the saints, the enemy of souls
sows cockle among the best, placing in imaginations, as it were, a
magnifying glass which transforms a grain of sand into a mountain.

We should also keep in mind that Providence
designedly leaves among the good many occasions for humility and for
the exercise of fraternal charity. It is in weakness that the grace
of God manifests its power and that our virtue is perfected; our
weaknesses humiliate us, and those of others exercise us.

Only in heaven will every occasion of conflict
completely disappear, because the blessed, illumined by the divine
light, see in God all that they should think, will, and do. On earth
the saints themselves may enter into conflict, and occasionally no
one yields for some time, because each is persuaded in conscience
that he must maintain his point of view; that he may indeed yield in
regard to his rights, but not in respect to his obligations. The case
of St. Charles Borromeo and of St. Philip Neri illustrates this
point. They could not come to an agreement on the foundation of one
order; and, as a matter of fact, in this case the Lord wished two
religious families instead of one.

In the midst of so many difficulties, how should
fraternal charity grow? It should grow especially in two ways: by
benevolence and beneficence; that is, first by considering our
neighbor in the light of faith that we may discover in him the life
of grace, at least what is good in his nature; then by loving our
neighbor effectively, and that in many ways: by putting up with his
defects, rendering him service, returning good for evil, praying for
union of minds and hearts.

First of all, we should view our neighbor in the
light of faith that we may find in him the life of grace, or at least
the image of God a ready graven in the very nature of his spiritual
and immortal soul. Since charity, in its aspect as love of God,
presupposes faith in God, in its aspect as love of neighbor it
assumes that we consider him in the light of faith and not only in
that of our eyes of flesh, or in that of a reason more or less
deformed by egoism. We need a pure gaze fitted to see the divine life
of others under an envelope that at times is thick and opaque. We see
the supernatural being of our neighbor if we merit to do so, if we
are detached from self.

In this connection we would do well to face the fact
that often what irritates us against our neighbor is not serious sins
against God, but rather defects of temperament which sometimes
subsist despite real virtue. We would perhaps easily put up with
sinners who are quite removed from God but naturally amiable, whereas
advanced souls are occasionally very “trying” to us. We
must, therefore, resolve to look at souls in the light of faith that
we may discover in them what is pleasing to God, what He loves in
them, and what we should love in them.

This higher light produces benevolence, whereas rash
judgment most seriously opposes this benevolent view. For this reason
Christ insists so strongly on this point in the Sermon on the Mount:
“Judge not, that you may not be judged. For with what judgment
you judge, you shall be judged; and with what measure you mete, it
shall be measured to you again. And why seest thou the mote that is
in thy brother’s eye, and seest not the beam that is in thy own
eye? . . . Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thy own
eye, and then shalt thou see to cast out the mote out of thy
brother’s eye.”516

It should be clearly noted that rash judgment is not
a simple unfavorable impression; it is a judgment. It consists in
affirming evil on a slight indication; in reality a person sees two
objects, but because of pride affirms that he sees four. If this
judgment is fully deliberate and consented to in a serious matter,
that is, judging one’s neighbor guilty of a mortal sin, the one
who judges, himself commits a mortal sin.517
Consequently, says St. Thomas, if we cannot avoid certain suspicions,
we should take care not to make a firm and definitive judgment on
slight indications.518

Rash judgment, properly so called, is a sin against
justice, especially when it is outwardly expressed by words or acts.519
Our neighbor has, in fact, a right to his reputation; next to the
right which he has to do his duty, he has the right to uphold his
good name more than to defend the right to property. We should
respect this right of others to their reputation if we wish our own
to be respected.

Moreover, rash judgment is often false. How can we
judge with certainty of the interior intentions of a person whose
doubts, errors, difficulties, temptations, good desires, or
repentance, we do not know? How can we claim to know better than he
what he says to God in prayer? How can we judge justly when we do not
have the details of the case? Even if a rash judgment is true, it is
a sin against justice because, in judging thus, a man arrogates to
himself a jurisdiction which is not his to exercise. God alone is
capable of judging with certainty the secret intentions of hearts, or
those that are not sufficiently manifested. Hence even the Church
does not judge them: “de internis non judicat.”

Rash judgment is likewise a sin against charity. What
is most serious in the eyes of God, is not that this hasty judgment
is often false and always unjust, but that it proceeds from
malevolence, though often expressed with the mask of benevolence,
which is only a grimace of charity. Anyone judging rashly is not only
a judge who arrogates to himself jurisdiction over the souls of his
brothers which he does not possess, but a judge sold by his egoism
and his pride, at times a pitiless judge, who knows only how to
condemn, and who, though unaware of it, presumes to impose laws on
the Holy Ghost, admitting no other way than his own. Instead of
seeing in his neighbor a brother, a son of God, called to the same
beatitude as he is, he sees in him only a stranger, perhaps a rival
to supplant and humiliate. This defect withdraws many from the
contemplation of divine things; it is a veil over the eyes of the
spirit.

If we do not go so far, we may judge the interior
life of a soul rashly in order to enjoy our own clear vision and to
show it off. Let us remember that God alone sees this conscience
openly. We should be on our guard and remember with what insistence
Christ said: “Judge not.” At the moment when we are
judging rashly, we do not foresee that shortly afterward we shall
perhaps fall into a more grievous sin than the one for which we
reproached our neighbor. We see the mote in our neighbor’s eye
and do not see the beam in our own.

If the evil is evident, does God demand that we
should not see it? No, but He forbids us to murmur with pride. At
times, He commands us in the name of charity to practice fraternal
correction with benevolence, humility, meekness, and discretion, as
indicated in the Gospel of St. Matthew,520
and as St. Thomas521
explains it. We should see whether correction is possible and if
there is hope for amendment, or whether it is necessary to have
recourse to the superior that he may warn the guilty person.522

Finally, as St. Catherine of Siena says, when the
evil is evident, perfection, instead of murmuring, has compassion on
the guilty party; we take on ourselves, in part at least, his sin
before God, following the example of our Lord who took all our sins
upon Himself on the cross. Did He not say to us: “Love one
another, as I have loved you”?523

We must, therefore, repress rash judgment that we may
become accustomed to see our neighbor in the light of faith and to
discover in him the life of grace, or at least his nature so far as
it is an image of God that grace should ennoble.

It is not sufficient to look upon our neighbor
benevolently; we must love him effectively. We can do this by bearing
with his defects, returning him good for evil, avoiding jealousy, and
praying for union of hearts.

We bear with another’s defects more easily if
we observe that often what arouses our impatience is not a serious
sin in the eyes of God, but rather a defect of temperament:
nervousness or, on the contrary, apathy, a certain narrowness of
judgment, a frequent lack of tact, a certain way of putting himself
forward, and other defects of this kind. Even if the defect is grave,
we should not allow ourselves to go so far as to become irritated
over evil that is permitted by God; and we should not allow our zeal
to become bitterness. While complaining of others, let us not go so
far as to persuade ourselves that we have realized the ideal. Without
suspecting it, we would be uttering the prayer of the Pharisee.

To put up with the defects of another, we must
remember that God permits evil only for a higher good. It has been
said that God’s business consists in drawing good from evil,
whereas we can do good only with good. The scandal of evil, producing
a bitter and indiscreet zeal, is responsible for the fruitlessness of
many reforms. The truth should be told with measure and goodness and
not spoken with contempt. We should also avoid indiscretion that
leads to speaking without sufficient reason about the faults of one’s
neighbor, which is slander and may lead to calumny.

The Gospel tells us that not only must we bear with
the defects of our neighbor, but also return good for evil by prayer,
edification, and mutual assistance. It is related that one of the
ways of winning the good graces of St. Teresa was to cause her pain.
She really practiced the counsel of Christ: “If a man will
contend with thee in judgment and take away thy coat, let go thy
cloak also unto him.”524
Why should we do this? Because it is much less important to defend
our temporal rights than to win the soul of our brother for eternity,
than to lead him to the true life which has no end. In particular,
prayer for our neighbor, when we have to suffer from him, is
especially efficacious, as was that of Jesus for His executioners and
that of St. Stephen, the first martyr, when he was being stoned.

We must also avoid jealousy, telling ourselves that
we ought to enjoy in a holy manner the natural and supernatural
qualities that the Lord has given to others and not to us. As St.
Paul says: “If the foot should say: Because I am not the hand,
I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear
should say: Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body; is it
therefore not of the body? If the whole body were the eye, where
would be the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where would be the
smelling? But now God hath set the members, everyone of them, in the
body as it hath pleased Him. And if they all were one member, where
would be the body? But now there are many members indeed, yet one
body. And the eye cannot say to the hand: I need not thy help; nor
again the head to the feet: I have no need of you. . . . But God hath
tempered the body together . . . that there might be no schism in the
body; but the members might be mutually careful one for another. And
if one member suffer anything, all the members suffer with it; or if
one member glory, all the members rejoice with it. Now you are the
body of Christ, and members of member.”525
The hand benefits by what the eye sees; similarly we benefit by the
merits of others. We should therefore rejoice in the good qualities
of another instead of allowing ourselves to become jealous. We must
exercise charity particularly toward inferiors who are weaker, and
toward superiors who have greater burdens to bear. We must not
emphasize their defects; were we in their place, we would perhaps do
less well than they. But we must help them as much as possible in a
discreet and, so to speak, unperceived manner.

Lastly, we must pray for union of minds and hearts.
Praying for His disciples, Christ said: “The glory which Thou
hast given Me, I have given to them; that they may be one, as We also
are one.”526
In the primitive Church, the Acts tell us: “The multitude of
believers had but one heart and one soul; neither did anyone say that
aught of the things which he possessed was his own; but all things
were common unto them.”527
As it spread over the world, the Church could not preserve such great
intimacy among its members, but religious communities and Christian
fraternities should remember the union of hearts in the early Church.
In communities where there is common observance of life and prayers,
this interior union must exist, otherwise observances and common
prayer would be a lie to God, to men, and to ourselves. Union of
hearts contributes to giving the Church the luster of the mark of
sanctity, which presupposes unity of faith, worship, hierarchy, hope,
and charity.

The radiating charity that unites the different
members of the Savior’s mystical body, in spite of diversity of
ages, countries, temperaments, and characters, is a sign that the
Word became flesh, that He came among us to unite us and to give us
life. He Himself declares it in His sacerdotal prayer: “The
glory which Thou hast given Me, I have given to them; that they may
be one, as We also are one . . . , and the world may know that Thou
hast sent Me, and hast loved them, as Thou hast also loved Me.”528

Chapter 21: Zeal for the Glory of God and the Salvation of Souls

“I am
come to cast fire on the earth: and what will, 1, but that it be
kindled?”Luke 12:49

To show what charity should normally be in the
illuminative way of proficients, we shall discuss the zeal which
every Christian, especially the priest and religious, should have for
the glory of God and the salvation of souls. If this zeal is lacking,
or does not exist in the degree that it should manifestly have, it is
an additional and at times striking sign of what our love of God and
souls should normally be, of what the living, profound, radiating
knowledge of the things of God should also be in us. Those whose duty
it is spiritually to feed others, themselves need a substantial daily
food, that to be had every day in intimate participation in the
Sacrifice of the Mass, in Communion, and in prayer.

We have seen that love of neighbor is the extension
or the radiation of the love we should have for God: this love should
extend to the children of God. It is one and the same supernatural
theological love; it is essentially divine, like grace, a
participation in the inner hfe of God. This love should become so
ardent in a fervent Christian soul as to merit the name of zeal.
Especially for a soul consecrated to God, it is a duty to have zeal
for His glory and the salvation of one’s neighbor. Basically it
is one and the same zeal, the ardor of one and the same love, which
should subsist, though not always sensible, in the midst of aridities
and trials of all sorts, just as in the heart of a good soldier
ardent love of country subsists in the most trying hours when he can
only be patient and endure. Zeal is the ardor of love, but of a
spiritual love of the will, which is at times proportionately more
generous and meritorious as it is less felt.529

We may with profit consider the motives of zeal, what
its qualities should be, and the means to exercise it.

THE MOTIVES OF ZEAL

For every Christian the first motive of zeal is that
God deserves to be loved above all things. This motive is not the
object of a counsel, but of the supreme precept, which has no limits;
it makes it our duty to grow continually in charity while on earth,
to love the Lord with our whole heart, with our whole soul, with all
our strength, and with all our mind.530
Even in the Old Testament the supreme precept was already formulated
in the same terms.531
We know what zeal in corresponding to it was shown by the prophets,
whose mission it was ceaselessly to remind the people of God of their
great duties. The Psalmist says to the Lord: “The zeal of Thy
house hath eaten me up: and the reproaches of them that reproach Thee
are fallen upon me.”532
“My zeal hath made me pine away: because my enemies forgot Thy
words. . . . I am very young and despised; but I forget not Thy
justifications.”533
Elias, reaching Mount Horeb and being questioned by God about what he
had done, replies: “With zeal have I been zealous for the Lord
God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken Thy covenant:
they have thrown down Thy altars, they have slain Thy prophets with
the sword, and I alone am left, and they seek my life to take it
away.”534
It was then that the Lord told Elias that He was going to pass before
him, and, after a violent wind and an earthquake accompanied by
lightning, there was “the whistling of a gentle air,” the
symbol of the divine gentleness; then the Lord gave the prophet His
orders, and revealed to him that Eliseus was called to succeed him.

Likewise we read in the first book of the Machabees
that the priest Mathathias, exhorting his sons to begin the holy war,
said: “Phinees our father, by being fervent in the zeal of God,
received the covenant of an everlasting priesthood. . . . Elias,
while he was full of zeal for the law, was taken up into heaven. . .
. Daniel in his innocency was delivered out of the mouth of the
lions. . . . You therefore, my sons, take courage, and behave
manfully in the law; for by it you shall be glorious.”535

This zeal led Jesus to cast the buyers and sellers
out of the temple and to overthrow their tables, saying to them: “It
is written: ‘My house shall be called the house of prayer; but
you have made it a den of thieves.’ “536Especially
after Pentecost, the apostles had this zeal; it led them all even to
martyrdom. It still exists in the Church wherever the testimony of
blood is given and in numerous lives consecrated to the service of
God even to immolation. The first motive of zeal is, therefore, that
God deserves to be loved above all and without measure.

The second motive of zeal is that we should imitate
our Lord Jesus Christ. The predominant virtue of the Savior is zeal,
the ardor of charity, as He Himself says: “I am come to cast
fire [of charity] on the earth: and what will I, but that it be
kindled?”537
St. Paul writes: “Wherefore when He cometh into the world, He
saith: ‘Sacrifice and oblation [of the Old Law] Thou wouldest
not: but a body Thou hast fitted to Me. . . . Then said I: Behold I
come . . . that I should do Thy will, O God.’ “538All
during His life, our Lord offered Himself; at twelve years of age He
announced that He came to be about His Father’s business.539
He offered Himself continually during His hidden life, showing us in
what humility and abnegation truly divine works should be prepared.
From the beginning of His public life, He saw the indifference of the
Jews of Nazareth, who called Him the son of the carpenter, and He
experienced the hatred of the Pharisees, which would increase even to
the point of demanding His death on the cross. The Word of God came
among His own to save them, and many of His own were not willing to
receive Him; they did not wish to let themselves be saved. Opposition
came from those who should least have opposed Him, from the priests
of the Old Law, the prelude of the New.540
The suffering which this attitude caused the Savior was profound like
His love of souls: it was the suffering of ardent and overflowing
charity, which wishes to give itself and often meets only with
indifference, inertia, lack of comprehension, ill will, and spiteful
opposition.

This thirst for the glory of God and the salvation of
souls was the great cause of the sorrow which the Savior experienced
at the sight of the sins of men. It was also the cause of Mary’s
suffering at the foot of the cross.

All His life long Christ felt this desire for the
salvation of souls and continually carried this cross of desire; He
aspired strongly to realize His redemptive mission by dying for us on
the cross. For this reason He said at the last supper the night
before He died: “With desire I have desired to eat this pasch
with you, before I suffer”;541
and then instituting the Eucharist, He said: “This is My body,
which is given for you. . . . This is the chalice, the new testament
in My blood, which shall be shed for you.”542
Christ desired with a great desire the accomplishment of His mission
by the perfect sacrifice of Himself, by the most complete gift of
self.

The suffering that accompanied this ardent desire
ceased with His death on the cross, but this desire, this thirst for
our salvation, still endures; He is “always living to make
intercession for us,”543
especially in the Sacrifice of the Mass, which continues
sacramentally that of Calvary. In the Eucharist our Lord continues to
make His appeals heard and to give Himself to souls, even to
repentant prisoners and criminals sentenced to death.”

This hunger and thirst for the salvation of sinners
which is still living in the holy soul of Christ led St. Catherine of
Siena to write to one of her spiritual sons: “I should like to
see you suffer so greatly from hunger for the salvation of souls that
you could die of it like Christ Jesus, that at least because of it
you would die to the world and to yourself.” Such thoughts are
to be found on every page of this great saint’s letters.

A third motive for our zeal is precisely the value of
the immortal souls redeemed by the blood of Christ. Each of them is
worth more than the entire physical universe, and each is called to
receive the benefits of the redemption and eternal life. We should
remember the zeal of the apostles who “went from the presence
of the council, rejoicing that they were accounted worthy to suffer
reproach for the name of Jesus,”544
and who could say to the faithful, as St. Paul did: “I most
gladly will spend and be spent myself for your souls; although loving
you more, I be loved less.”545
Zeal prompted St. Paul to write: “We are buffeted, and have no
fixed abode. . . . We are reviled, and we bless; we are persecuted,
and we suffer it; we are blasphemed, and we entreat.”546
Zeal led the apostles even to martyrdom, and for three centuries
after them the same was true of many bishops, priests, and laymen of
every rank and age. The martyrs, whose heroism gave rise to numerous
conversions, had such eminent zeal for the glory of God and the
salvation of souls that it became an undeniable proof of the sanctity
of the Church. If when a man’s country is in danger he loves it
to the extent that he will sacrifice himself for it, with what
greater reason should we love the Church which leads us to the
eternal country, where all the just of all peoples should meet.

Lastly, a fourth motive of our zeal is the contrary
zeal with which the enemies of the Church toil at works of disorder,
corruption, and death. What should draw us out of our somnolence, is
the impious, spiteful, satanic war waged against our Lord and our
holy Mother the Church; a war surpassing all others, a war of the
spirit, which is carried on in the innermost depths of hearts, even
in the souls of little children, whom they desire to snatch from our
Lord that they may make them reprobates and atheists. This war is
indescribably perverse like the sins of the spirit; it is loaded down
with crushing responsibilities. The Church sees the formidable
consequences of this struggle on those who are intent upon it; it
continues to pray for them, that God may cure their blindness and
halt them on the road of damnation, into which they are dragging so
many others with them.

The principal motives of zeal are consequently: the
glory of God, the imitation of our Lord, the salvation of souls, and
the relief of the souls in purgatory.

THE QUALITIES OF ZEAL

Zeal, according to its definition, should be ardent
since it is the ardor of love; but here is meant enduring spiritual
ardor, and not a sudden impetus, sensible enthusiasm of temperament,
natural activity eager to take outward form through personal
satisfaction and the seeking after self which wearies others. That it
may not lose any of its spiritual ardor and may preserve it for a
long time, zeal should be free from all excessively human
self-seeking; to be so, it must be enlightened, patient, meek, and
disinterested.

Zeal should, first of all, be illumined by the light
of faith, by that of obedience and Christian prudence, and also by
the gifts of wisdom and counsel. The light of natural reason does not
suffice, for it is a question of performing not only a human work,
but a divine work, of laboring at the salvation and sanctification of
souls with the means indicated by our Lord. Zeal animated only by the
natural spirit, instead of converting souls to God, gradually allows
itself to be converted by the world, to be seduced by high-sounding
phrases devoid of meaning. It dreams, for example, of a future city
and loses sight of the supernatural end of the true city of God which
St. Augustine speaks of. This zeal, which is that of restless,
blundering, ambitious people, is impulsive, unseasonable, and
inopportune; it forgets the indispensable, supernatural means, prayer
and penance, recalled by Mary Immaculate at Lourdes.

Especially in difficult circumstances, zeal should
beg the Holy Ghost for the light of the gift of counsel, not that it
should propose to do extraordinary things, but to accomplish as
perfectly as possible the ordinary duties fixed by the wisdom of the
Church and obedience: to say Mass well or to unite oneself intimately
to it, to be faithful to prayer under its different forms, and to
one’s duties of state. Sometimes heroic obedience may be
demanded; should it be lacking, the greatest qualities of mind and
heart would not suffice to compensate for its absence. Some servants
of God, who were manifestly called to sanctity, seem not to have
reached it because they lacked this heroic virtue.

Zeal should be not only enlightened, but also patient
and meek. While preserving its ardor, and indeed in order to preserve
it, zeal should avoid becoming uselessly irritated against evil,
pouring itself out in vain indignation and sermonizing
indiscriminately. The Gospel shows us that in the service of the Lord
the Boanerges, or sons of thunder,547
as James and John were, become meek. Zeal should know how to tolerate
certain evils in order to avoid greater ones and not itself turn to
bitterness. What is only less good should not be cast aside as evil;
the smoking flax should not be extinguished nor the broken reed
crushed. We should always remember that Providence permits evil in
view of a superior good, which we often do not yet see, but which
will shine forth on the last day under the light of eternity.

To be patient and meek, zeal should be disinterested,
and that in two ways: by avoiding appropriating to self what belongs
only to God and what pertains to others. Some people are zealous for
the works of God, but, motivated by unconscious self-seeking, they
consider these works too much as their own. As Tauler says, they
resemble hunting dogs that are eager in running down the hare, but
that eat it after catching it, instead of bringing it back to their
master; thereupon he whips them soundly. Thus these people keep for
themselves the souls which they should win for our Lord, and as a
result God punishes them severely to teach them to efface themselves,
that He may act in them and through them. When they are less sure of
themselves, less persuaded of their importance, and somewhat broken
or at least more supple, the Lord will use them as docile
instruments. They will then completely forget themselves in the hands
of the Savior, who alone knows what is necessary to regenerate souls.

Let us not appropriate what belongs to others. Often
we wish to do good, but we desire too greatly that we should do it in
our way. We should not wish to do everything, or hinder others from
working and being more successful than we are. Let us not be jealous
of their success. Above all, we ought not to take upon ourselves the
direction of souls that have not been entrusted to us; we ought to be
on our guard not to take them away from a salutary influence, for the
Lord might require a severe accounting from us in this matter. It is
for Him we are working and not for ourselves. This is what He wished
to make His apostles understand one day when they had been disputing
among themselves about which was the greatest. He then asked them:
“What did you treat of in the way?” But they did not dare
to reply, and it was then that, “calling unto Him a little
child, [He] set him in the midst of them, and said: Amen I say to
you, unless you be converted, and become as little children, you
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”548
He wished to make them understand that their zeal should be humble
and disinterested.

He wished to convince particularly the sons of
Zebedee, James and John, of this when their mother came to Him and
asked for them the first two places in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus
said to them: “You know not what you ask. Can you drink the
chalice that I shall drink? They say to Him: We can. He saith to
them: My chalice indeed you shall drink; but to sit on My right or
left hand, is not Mine to give to you, but to them for whom it is
prepared by My Father. . . . And he that will be first among you,
shall be your servant. Even as the Son of man is not come to be
ministered unto, but to minister, and to give His life a redemption
for many.”549
Thus our Lord taught the sons of Zebedee to dominate their natural
ardor by humility and meekness, in order to transform it into a pure
and fruitful supernatural zeal. Similarly He cures us sometimes by
rebuffs and trials administered to our self-love and pride. He
corrects us thus until we no longer wish to do our work; then, after
permitting the lower part of our nature to be broken by events, and
when selfishness has been overcome, He makes use of us for His work,
the salvation of souls. Then zeal, though it preserves its spiritual
ardor, is calm, humble, and meek, like that of Mary and the saints,
and nothing can any longer crush it: “If God be for us, who can
be against us?”

This zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of
souls should be exercised by the apostolate under various forms: the
apostolate by the teaching of Christian doctrine and the spiritual
and corporal works of mercy; the apostolate by prayer, which draws
down divine grace to render fruitful the labor of those who toil in
the Lord’s vineyard. When profound, this hidden apostolate is
the soul of the exterior apostolate. Lastly, there should also be the
apostolate by reparatory suffering; hidden, too, like that of prayer,
it continues, as it were, in the mystical body of Christ the
sufferings of Jesus during the Passion and on the cross for the
regeneration of souls. When, in the mystical body of Christ, a member
voluntarily suffers through love, another infirm member is healed, as
in our human body painful remedies relieve infected organs, which
then gradually resume their functions. When the servants of God
immolate their bodies and hearts, the Lord spares the body of an
unfortunate person whose strength is spent, or cures a sick heart
which had not the courage to break its chains. When in the mystical
body a generous soul sacrifices its own will, in another the Lord
revives a dead will and grants it the grace of conversion.

Such are the qualities of zeal, which is the ardor of
charity, an enlightened, patient, meek, disinterested, and truly
fruitful ardor that glorifies God, imitates our Lord, snatches souls
from evil, and saves them.

It is clear that this zeal should exist, that too
often it is lacking, and that it is in the normal way of sanctity.
But to subsist, it should be kept up by profound prayer, by prayer
that is continual and like an almost uninterrupted conversation of
the soul with God in perfect docility. We shall now discuss this
docility and this prayer of proficients; it is this prayer that gave
its name to the illuminative way in which the soul is more and more
penetrated by the light of God.

THE SOURCES OF SPIRITUAL
PROGRESS AND DIVINE INTIMACY

What we have just said about the progress of the
moral and theological virtues leads us to speak of the sources of
spiritual progress and divine intimacy. We shall do so by treating of
what docility to the Holy Ghost, the discerning of spirits, the
Sacrifice of the Mass, Holy Communion, devotion to Mary, should be
for proficients. We shall finish Part III by examining the questions
relative to the passage from acquired prayer to initial infused
prayer, to the nature of infused contemplation, and to its progress.

Chapter 22: Docility to the Holy Ghost

Having spoken of the progress of the theological
virtues in the illuminative way, we shall now treat of docility to
the Holy Ghost who, through His seven gifts, is the Inspirer of our
entire life with a view to contemplation and action.

Earlier in this work550
we set forth the nature of the gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to
the teaching of St. Thomas,551
who considers them permanent infused habits, which are in every just
soul that it may receive the inspirations of the Holy Ghost with
promptness and docility. According to the fathers of the Church, the
gifts are in the just soul like the sails on a vessel; the boat may
advance by rowing, which is a slow and painful way of making
progress; this is the symbol of the work of the virtues. It may also
advance because a favorable wind swells its sails, which dispose it
to receive, as it should, the impulsion of the wind. This analogy was
indicated in a way by Christ Himself when He said: “The Spirit
breatheth where He will; and thou hearest His voice, but thou knowest
not whence He cometh and whither He goeth. So is everyone that is
born of the Spirit.”552

The gifts of the Holy Ghost have also been compared
to the different strings of a harp which, under the hand of a
musician, give forth harmonious sounds. Lastly, the inspirations of
the gifts have been likened to the seven flames of the seven-branch
candelabrum used in the synagogue.

These gifts, enumerated by Isaias and called by him
“the spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the spirit of
counsel and of fortitude, the spirit of knowledge and of godliness,
and . . . the spirit of the fear of the Lord,”553
are granted to all the just, since the Holy Spirit is given to all
according to these words of St. Paul: “The charity of God is
poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, who is given to us.”554
The gifts of the Holy Ghost are consequently connected with charity,555
and therefore they grow with it. They are like the wings of a bird
that grow simultaneously, or like the sails of a ship that
increasingly unfurl. By repeated venial sins, however, the gifts of
the Holy Ghost are, as it were, bound; these habitual venial sins are
like folds in the soul, which incline it to judge in an inferior
manner with a certain blindness of spirit, which is the direct
opposite of infused contemplation.556
We shall discuss first the inspirations of the Holy Ghost, then the
ascending gradation of the gifts, and finally the conditions required
for docility to the Holy Ghost.

THE INSPIRATIONS OF THE
HOLY GHOST

The special inspiration to which the gifts render us
docile is, as we have explained,557
quite different from common actual grace which leads us to the
exercise of the virtues. Under common actual grace, we deliberate in
a discursive or reasoned manner, for example, to go to Mass, or to
say the Rosary at the accustomed hour. In this case we move ourselves
by a more or less explicit deliberation to this act of the virtue of
religion. Under a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, on the
contrary, we are moved, for example, in the course of study, to pray
in order to obtain light. Here there is no discursive deliberation,
the act of .the gift of piety is not deliberate; but under the
special inspiration it remains free, and the spirit of piety disposes
us precisely to receive this inspiration with docility and therefore
freely and with merit. St. Thomas distinguishes clearly between
common actual grace and special inspiration when he shows the
difference between cooperating grace, under which we are moved to act
in virtue of an anterior act, and operating grace, by which we are
moved to act by consenting freely to receive the impulsion of the
Holy Ghost.558
In the first case, we are more active than passive; in the second, we
are more passive than active, for it is more the Holy Ghost who acts
in us.559

It happens, moreover, that under this special
inspiration the gifts are exercised at the same time that the work of
the virtues is done. Thus while the boat advances by rowing, there
may be a slight breeze which facilitates the labor of the rower.
Likewise the inspirations of the gifts may recall to our mind many
principles from the Gospel at the time when our reason deliberates on
a decision to be made. Inversely, our prudence sometimes recognizes
its powerlessness to find the solution of a difficult case of
conscience, and it then moves us to ask for the light of the Holy
Ghost, whose special inspiration makes us see and accomplish what is
fitting. We should be increasingly docile to Him.

THE ASCENDING GRADATION
OF THE GIFTS

These inspirations of the Holy Ghost are exceedingly
varied, as is shown by the enumeration of the gifts in the eleventh
chapter of Isaias, and their subordination starting with that of
fear, the least elevated, up to that of wisdom, which directs all the
others from above560
This gradation given by Isaias and explained by St. Augustine, St.
Thomas, and later St. Francis de Sales, is like an ancient hymn
replete with beautiful modulations, one of the leitmotifs of
traditional theology. In this gradation we perceive a spiritual scale
analogous to that of the seven principal notes of music.

The gift of fear is the first manifestation of the
influence of the Holy Ghost in a soul that leaves off sin and is
converted to God. It supplies for the imperfection of the virtues of
temperance and of chastity; it helps us to struggle against the
fascination of forbidden pleasures and against the impulses of the
heart.561

This holy fear of God is the inverse of worldly fear,
often called human respect. It is superior also to servile fear
which; although it has a salutary effect on the sinner, has not the
dignity of a gift of the Holy Ghost. Servile fear is that which
trembles at the punishments of God; it diminishes with charity, which
makes us consider God rather as a loving Father than as a judge to be
feared.

Filial fear, or the gift of fear, dreads sin
especially, more than the punishments due it. It makes us tremble
with a holy respect before the majesty of God. At times the soul
experiences this holy fear of offending God; occasionally the
experience is so vivid that no meditation, no reading, could produce
a like sentiment. It is the Holy Ghost who touches the soul. This
holy fear of sin is “the beginning of wisdom,”562
for it leads us to obey the divine law in everything, which is wisdom
itself. Filial fear increases with charity, like the horror of sin;
in heaven, though the saints no longer have the fear of offending
God, they still have the reverential fear which makes the angels
themselves tremble before the infinite majesty of God, “tremunt
potestates,” in the words of the preface of the Mass. This fear
was even in the soul of Christ and still remains there.563

This fear of sin, which inspired the great
mortifications of the saints, corresponds to the beatitude of the
poor: blessed are they who through fear of the Lord detach their
hearts from the pleasures of the world, from honors; in their poverty
they are supernaturally rich, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

Fear has a negative element, making us flee from sin;
but the soul needs a more filial attitude toward God. The gift of
piety inspires us precisely with a wholly filial affection for our
Father in heaven, for Christ our Savior, for our Mother, the Blessed
Virgin, for our holy protectors.564
This gift supplies for the imperfection of the virtue of religion,
which renders to God the worship due Him, in the discursive manner of
human reason illumined by faith. There is no spiritual impulse and no
lasting fervor without the gift of piety, which hinders us from
becoming attached to sensible consolations in prayer and makes us
draw profit from dryness, aridities, which are intended to render us
more disinterested and spiritual. St. Paul writes to the Romans: “You
have received the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry: Abba
(Father) . . . ‘. Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our
infirmity. For we know not what we should pray for as we ought; but
the Spirit Himself asketh for us with unspeakable groanings.”565
By this gift we find a supernatural sweetness even in our interior
sufferings; it is particularly manifest in the prayer of quiet, in
which the will is captivated by the attraction of God, although the
intellect often has to struggle against distractions. By its
sweetness this gift makes us resemble Christ, who was meek and humble
of heart. Its fruit, according to St. Augustine, is the beatitude of
the meek, who shall possess the land of heaven. St. Bernard and St.
Francis de Sales excelled in the gift of piety.

But to have a solid piety that avoids illusion and
dominates the imagination and sentimentalism, the Holy Ghost must
give us the higher gift of knowledge.

The gift of knowledge renders us docile to
inspirations superior to human knowledge and even to reasoned
theology. We are here concerned with a supernatural feeling that
makes us judge rightly of human things, either as symbols of divine
things, or in their opposition to the latter.566
It shows us vividly the vanity of all passing things, of honors,
titles, the praises of men; it makes us see especially the infinite
gravity of mortal sin as an offense against God and a disease of the
soul. It throws light particularly on what in the world does not come
from God, but from defectible and deficient second causes; in this it
differs from the gift of wisdom. By showing the infinite gravity of
mortal sin, it produces not only fear but horror of sin and a great
sorrow for having offended God.

It gives the true knowledge of good and evil, and not
that which the devil promised to Adam and Eve when he said to them:
“In what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be
opened: and you shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil.” As a
matter of fact, they had the bitter knowledge or experience of evil
committed, of proud disobedience, and of its results. The Holy Ghost,
on the other hand, promises the true knowledge of good and evil; if
we follow Him, we shall be in a sense like God, who knows evil to
detest it and good to realize it.

Only too often human knowledge produces presumption;
the gift of knowledge, on the contrary, strengthens hope because it
shows us that every human help is fragile as a reed; it makes us see
the nothingness of earthly goods and leads us to desire heaven,
putting all our confidence in God. As St. Augustine says, it
corresponds to the beatitude of the tears of contrition. Blessed are
they who know the emptiness of human things, especially the gravity
of sin; blessed are they who weep for their sins, who have true
compunction of heart, of which The Imitation often speaks. By
this gift we find the happy mean between a discouraging pessimism and
an optimism made up of levity and vanity. Precious knowledge of the
saints possessed by all great apostles: St. Dominic, for example,
often wept on seeing the state of certain souls to which he brought
the word of God.

Above the gift of knowledge, according to the
enumeration of Isaias, comes the gift of fortitude. Why does the
prophet place fortitude above knowledge? Because to be able to
discern good and evil is not sufficient; we need strength to avoid
the one and practice the other perseveringly without ever becoming
discouraged. We must undertake a war against the flesh, the spirit of
the world, and the spirit of evil, which is at times exceedingly
afflictive. We have powerful, subtle, perfidious enemies. Shall we
let ourselves be intimidated by certain worldly smiles, by a
thoughtless speech? If we yield on this point, we shall fall into the
snares of him who wishes our damnation and who struggles so much the
more desperately against us as our vocation is higher.567

The gift of fortitude strengthens our courage in
danger, and comes to the help of our patience in long trials. It is
this gift that sustained the martyrs, that gave invincible constancy
to children, to Christian virgins, like Agnes and Cecilia, to St.
Joan of Arc in her prison and on her pyre. It corresponds, says St.
Augustine, to the beatitude of those who hunger and thirst after
justice in spite of all contradictions, of those who preserve a holy
enthusiasm that is not only sensible, but spiritual and supernatural,
even in the midst of persecution. It gave the martyrs of the early
Church a holy joy in their torments.568

But in difficult circumstances, in which the lofty
acts of the gift of fortitude are exercised, we must avoid the danger
of temerity which distinguishes fanatics. To avoid this danger, we
need a higher gift, that of counsel.

The gift of counsel supplies for the imperfection of
the virtue of prudence, when prudence hesitates and does not know
what decision to make in certain difficulties, in the presence of
certain adversaries. Must we still preserve patience, show meekness,
or, on the contrary, give evidence of firmness? And, in dealing with
clever people, how can we harmonize “the simplicity of the dove
and the prudence of the serpent”?569

In these difficulties, we must have recourse to the
Holy Ghost who dwells in us. He will certainly not turn us away from
seeking counsel from our superiors, our confessor, or director; on
the contrary, He will move us to do so, and then He will fortify us
against rash impulsiveness and pusillanimity. He will make us
understand also what a superior and a director would be incapable of
telling us, especially the harmonizing of seemingly contradictory
virtues: prudence and simplicity, fortitude and meekness, frankness
and reserve. The Holy Ghost makes us understand that we should not
say something that is more or less contrary to charity; if, in spite
of His warning, we do so, not infrequently it produces disorder,
irritation, great loss of time, to the detriment of the peace of
souls. All of this might easily have been avoided. The enemy of
souls, on the contrary, exerts himself to sow cockle, to cause
confusion, to transform a grain of sand into a mountain; he makes use
of petty, almost imperceptible trifles, but he achieves results with
them as a person does who puts a tiny obstacle in the movement of a
watch in order to stop it.

Sometimes it is these trifles that arrest progress on
the way of perfection; the soul is held captive by inferior things as
by a thread which it has not the courage to break: for example, by a
certain habit contrary to recollection or humility, to the respect
due to other souls, which are also the temples of the Holy Ghost. All
these obstacles are removed by the inspirations of the gift of
counsel, which corresponds to the beatitude of the merciful. These
last are, in fact, good counselors who forget themselves that they
may encourage the afflicted and sinners.

As the gift of counsel is given to us to direct our
conduct by supplying for the imperfection of prudence, which would
often remain hesitant, we need a superior gift to supply for the
imperfection of faith. This virtue attains the mysteries of the inner
life of God only by the intermediary of abstract and multiple
formulas which we should like to be able to sum up in a single one
that would express more exactly what the living God is for us.

Here the gift of understanding comes to our
assistance by a certain interior light that makes us penetrate the
mysteries of salvation and anticipate all their grandeur.570
Without this light, it happens often that we hear sermons, read
spiritual books, and yet remain in ignorance of the deep meaning of
these mysteries of life. They remain like sacred formulas preserved
in the memory, but their truth does not touch our soul; it is pale
and lusterless, like a star lost in the depths of the heavens. And
because we are not sufficiently nourished with these divine truths,
we are more or less seduced by the maxims of the world.

On the contrary, a simple soul prostrate before God,
will understand the mysteries of the Incarnation, the redemption, the
Eucharist, not to explain them, to discuss them, but to live by them.
It is the Holy Ghost who gives this penetrating and experimental
knowledge of the truths of faith which enables the soul to glimpse
the sublime beauty of Christ’s sermons. It is He also who gives
souls the profound understanding of their vocation and preserves them
in this regard from every failure in judgment.

The gift of understanding cannot exist in a high
degree without great purity of heart, of intention; it corresponds,
according to St. Augustine, to the beatitude: “Blessed are the
clean of heart: for they shall see God.’: Even here on earth
they begin to glimpse Him in the words of Scripture, which at times
are illumined for them as if underscored by a line of light. St.
Catherine of Siena and St. John of the Cross excel in this
understanding of the mysteries of salvation that they may make us
comprehend the plenitude of life contained in them.

The gift of wisdom is finally, according to the
enumeration of Isaias, the highest of all, as charity, to which it
corresponds, is the loftiest of the virtues. Wisdom appears eminently
in St. John, St. Paul, St. Augustine, St. Thomas. It leads them to
judge all things by relation to God, the first Cause and last End,
and to judge them thus, not as acquired theology does, but by that
connaturalness or sympathy with divine things which comes from
charity. By His inspiration, the Holy Ghost makes use of this
connaturalness to show us the beauty, the sanctity, and the radiating
plenitude of the mysteries of salvation, which correspond so well to
our deepest and highest aspirations.571
Opposed to wisdom is spiritual folly, stultitia, of which St.
Paul often speaks.572

From this higher point of view, it becomes evident
that a number of learned men are mad in their vain learning, when,
for example, in discussing the origins of Christianity, they wish to
deny the supernatural at any cost; they fall into manifest
absurdities. In a less inferior degree, believers who are instructed
in their religion but whose judgment is faulty take scandal at the
mystery of the cross which continues in the life of the Church.573
They do not have a sufficiently clear perception of the value of
supernatural means, of prayer, the sacraments, trials borne with
love; they are too much preoccupied with human culture and
occasionally confound liberalism and charity, as others confound
narrowness and firmness in faith. This is a lack of wisdom.574

The gift of wisdom, the principle of a living
contemplation that directs action, enables the soul to taste the
goodness of God, to see it manifested in all events, even in the most
painful, since God permits evil only for a higher good, which we
shall see later and which it is sometimes given us to glimpse on
earth. The gift of wisdom thus makes us judge everything in relation
to God; it shows the subordination of causes and ends or, as they say
today, the scale of values. It reminds us that all that glitters is
not gold and that, on the contrary, marvels of grace are to be found
under the humblest exteriors, as in the person of St. Benedict Joseph
Labre or Blessed Anna Maria Taigi. This gift enables the saints to
embrace the plan of Providence with a gaze entirely penetrated with
love; darkness does not disconcert them for they discover in it the
hidden God. As the bee knows how to find honey in flowers, the gift
of wisdom draws lessons of divine goodness from everything.

Wisdom reminds us, as Cardinal Newman says, that: “A
thousand difficulties do not make a doubt” so long as they do
not impair the very basis of certitude. Thus many difficulties which
subsist in the interpretation of several books of the Old Testament
or of the Apocalypse do not make a doubt as to the divine origin of
the religion of Israel or of Christianity.

The gift of wisdom thus gives the supernaturalized
soul great peace, that is the tranquillity of the order of things
considered from God’s point of view. Thereby this gift, says
St. Augustine, corresponds to the beatitude of the peacemakers, that
is to say, of those who remain in peace when many are troubled and
who are capable of bringing peace to the discouraged. This is one of
the signs of the unitive life.

How is it possible that so many persons, after living
forty or fifty years in the state of grace, receiving Holy Communion
frequently, give almost no indication of the gifts of the Holy Ghost
in their conduct and actions, take offense at a trifle, show great
eagerness for praise, and live a very natural life? This condition
springs from venial sins which they often commit without any concern
for them; these sins and the inclinations arising from them lead
these souls toward the earth and hold the gifts of the Holy Ghost as
it were bound, like wings that cannot spread. These souls lack
recollection; they are not attentive to the inspirations of the Holy
Ghost, which pass unperceived. Consequently they remain in obscurity,
not in the darkness from above, which is that of the inner life of
God, but in the lower obscurity which comes from matter, from
inordinate passions, sin, and error; this is the explanation of their
spiritual inertia. To these souls are addressed the words of the
Psalmist, which the Divine Office places before us daily at Matins:
“Today if you shall hear His voice, harden not your hearts.”575

CONDITIONS REQUIRED FOR
DOCILITY TO THE HOLY GHOST

To be docile to the Holy Ghost, we must first hear
His voice. To do so, recollection, detachment from the world and from
self are necessary, as are the custody of the heart, the
mortification of self-will, and personal judgment. If silence does
not reign in our soul, if the voice of excessively human affections
troubles it, we cannot of a certainty hear the inspirations of the
interior Master. For this reason the Lord subjects our sensible
appetites to severe trials and in a way crucifies them that they may
eventually become silent or fully submissive to our will animated by
charity. If we are ordinarily preoccupied with ourselves, we shall
certainly hear ourselves or perhaps a more perfidious, more dangerous
voice which seeks to lead us astray. Consequently our Lord invites us
to die to ourselves like the grain of wheat placed in the ground.

To hear the divine inspirations, we must, therefore,
create silence in ourselves; but even then the voice of the Holy
Ghost remains mysterious. As Christ says: “The Spirit breatheth
where He will; and thou hearest His voice, but thou knowest not
whence He cometh and whither He goeth. So is everyone that is born of
the Spirit.”576
Mysterious words, which should make us prudent and reserved in our
judgments about our neighbor, attentive to the attractions placed in
us by the Lord, which are the mixed seed of a future known to divine
Providence. They are attractions toward renunciation, toward interior
prayer; they are more precious than we think. Some intellectuals from
an early age have an attraction to silent mental prayer, which alone
perhaps will preserve them from spiritual pride, from dryness of
heart, and will make their souls childlike, such as they must be to
enter the kingdom of God, and especially the intimacy of the kingdom.
A vocation to a definite religious order may often be recognized by
these early attractions.

The voice of the Holy Ghost begins, therefore, by an
instinct, an obscure illumination, and if one perseveres in humility
and conformity to the will of God, this instinct manifests its divine
origin clearly to the conscience while remaining mysterious. The
first gleams will become so many lights which, like the stars, will
illumine the night of our pilgrimage toward eternity; the dark night
will thus become luminous and like the aurora of the life of heaven,
“and night shall be my light in my pleasures.”577

To succeed in being docile to the Holy Ghost, we
need, therefore, interior silence, habitual recollection, attention,
and fidelity.

ACTS WHICH PREPARE THE
SOUL FOR DOCILITY TO THE HOLY GHOST

We dispose ourselves to docility to the Holy Ghost by
three principal acts: (1) By obeying faithfully the will of God which
we already know through the precepts and the counsels proper to our
vocation. Let us make good use of the knowledge that we have; God
will give us additional knowledge.(2) By frequently renewing our
resolution to follow the will of God in everything. This good
resolution thus renewed draws down new graces on us. We should often
repeat Christ’s words: “My meat is to do the will of Him
that sent Me.”578.
(3) By asking unceasingly for the light and strength of the Holy
Ghost to accomplish the will of God. We may with profit consecrate
ourselves to the Holy Ghost, when we feel the attraction to do so, to
place our soul more under His dominion and as it were, in His hand.
We may make this consecration in the following terms: “O Holy
Ghost, divine Spirit of light and love, I consecrate to Thee my mind,
my heart, my will, and my whole being for time and eternity. May my
mind be ever docile to Thy celestial inspirations and to the teaching
of the holy Catholic Church of which Thou art the infallible Guide.
May my heart be always inflamed with love of God and of my neighbor.
May my will be ever conformed to the divine will, and may my whole
life be a faithful imitation of the life and virtues of our Lord and
Savior Jesus Christ, to whom, with the Father and Thee, O Holy Ghost,
be honor and glory forever.”579

This consecration is also admirably expressed in the
beautiful sequence:

Veni,
Sancte Spiritus,Et emitte coelitus Lucis tuae radium.

When such a consecration is made with a great spirit
of faith, its effect may be most profound. Since a fully deliberate
pact with the devil brings in its wake so many disastrous effects in
the order of evil, an act of consecration to the Holy Ghost can
produce greater ones in the order of good, for God has more goodness
and power than the devil has malice.

Consequently the Christian who has consecrated
himself to Mary Mediatrix, for example, according to the formula of
St. Grignion de Montfort, and then to the Sacred Heart, will find
treasures in the often renewed consecration to the Holy Ghost. All
Mary’s influence leads us to the intimacy of Christ, and the
humanity of the Savior leads us to the Holy Ghost, who introduces us
into the mystery of the adorable Trinity. We may fittingly make this
consecration at Pentecost and renew it frequently.

Especially when difficulties arise, when most
important actions are being changed, we must ask for the light of the
Holy Ghost, sincerely wishing only to do His will. This done, if He
does not give us new lights, we shall continue to do what will seem
best to us. Therefore, at the opening assemblies of the clergy and of
religious chapters, the assistance of the Holy Ghost is invoked by
votive Masses in His honor.

Lastly we should note exactly the different movements
of our soul in order to discover what comes from God and what does
not. Spiritual writers generally say that God’s action in a
soul submissive to grace is ordinarily characterized by peace and
tranquillity; the devil’s action is violent and accompanied by
disturbance and anxiety.

THE HARMONIZING OF
DOCILITY TO THE HOLY GHOST WITH OBEDIENCE AND PRUDENCE

The first Protestants wished to regulate everything
by private inspiration, subjecting to it even the Church and its
decisions. For the true believer, however, docility to the interior
Master admits nothing contrary to the faith proposed by the Church
and to its authority; on the contrary, it tends only to perfect faith
and the other virtues.

Likewise the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, far from
destroying the obedience due to superiors, aids and facilitates its
practice. Inspiration should be understood with the implied condition
that obedience enjoins nothing contrary to it.

In the words of Father Lallemant, S.J.: “The
only thing to be feared is that superiors may sometimes follow human
prudence excessively, and that for want of discernment they may
condemn the lights and inspirations of the Holy Ghost, treating them
as illusions and reveries, and prescribe for those to whom God
communicates Himself by such favors as if they were invalids. In this
case, a person should still obey, but God will one day correct the
error of these rash spirits and teach them to their cost not to
condemn His graces without understanding them and without being
qualified to pass judgment on them.”580

Neither should it be said that docility to the Holy
Ghost renders useless the deliberations of prudence or the counsel of
experienced people. The interior Master tells us, on the contrary, to
be attentive to what we can see for ourselves; He also invites us to
consult enlightened persons, but adds that we should at the same time
have recourse to Him. As St. Augustine says: “God orders us to
do what we can, and to ask for the grace to accomplish what we cannot
do by ourselves.” The Holy Ghost sent even St. Paul to Ananias
to learn from him what he was to do. This docility then harmonizes
perfectly with obedience, prudence, and humility; it even greatly
perfects these virtues.

THE FRUITS OF DOCILITY TO
THE HOLY GHOST

All our perfection most certainly depends on this
fidelity. According to Father Lallemant: “Some have many
beautiful practices and perform a number of exterior acts of virtue;
they give themselves wholly to the material action of virtue. Such a
way of living is good for beginners; but it belongs to a far greater
perfection to follow one’s interior attraction and to regulate
one’s conduct by its movement.”581
Were we to apply ourselves to purifying our heart, to eliminating
what is opposed to grace, we would arrive twice as soon at
perfection. We read in the same chapter:

The end to
which we should aspire, after we have for a long time exercised
ourselves in purity of heart, is to be so possessed and governed by
the Holy Ghost that He alone will direct all our powers and senses,
regulate all our interior and exterior movements, and that we may
surrender ourselves entirely by a spiritual renunciation of our will
and our own satisfaction. Thus we will no longer live in ourselves,
but in Jesus Christ, by a faithful correspondence with the operations
of His divine Spirit and by a perfect subjection of all our
rebellious movements to the power of grace.

Few persons
attain the graces that God destined for them, or, having once lost
them, succeed later in repairing their loss. The majority lack the
courage to conquer themselves and the fidelity to use the gift of God
with discretion.

When we
enter on the path of virtue, we walk at first in darkness, but if we
faithfully and constantly followed grace, we would infallibly reach
great light both for ourselves and for others. . . .

Sometimes,
after receiving a good inspiration from God, we immediately find
ourselves attacked by repugnances, doubts, perplexities, and
difficulties which spring from our corrupted nature and from our
passions, which are opposed to the divine inspiration. If we received
it with full submission of heart, it would fill us with the peace and
consolation which the Holy Ghost brings with Him. . . .

It is of
faith that the least inspiration of God is more precious and more
excellent than the whole world, since it belongs to a supernatural
order and cost the blood and the life of a God.

What
stupidity! We are insensible to the inspirations of God because they
are spiritual and infinitely elevated above the senses. We do not pay
much attention to them, we prefer natural talents, brilliant
positions, the esteem of men, our little comforts and satisfactions.
Prodigious illusion from which, nevertheless, a number are undeceived
only at the hour of death!

Then in
practice we take away from the Holy Ghost the direction of our soul
and, though its center is made for God alone, we fill it with
creatures to His prejudice; and instead of dilating and enlarging it
infinitely by the presence of God, we contract it exceedingly by
occupying it with some wretched little nothings. That is what hinders
us from attaining perfection.582

On the contrary, says the same author, docility to
the Holy Ghost would show us that He is truly the Consoler of our
souls in the uncertainty of our salvation, in the midst of the
temptations and tribulations of this life, which is an exile.

We need this consolation because of the uncertainty
of our salvation in the midst of the snares which surround us, of all
that can make us deviate from the right road. Strictly speaking, we
cannot merit final perseverance, for it is nothing else than the
state of grace at the very moment of death, and grace, being the
principle of merit, cannot be merited.583
Therefore we need the direction, protection, and consolation of the
Holy Ghost, who “giveth testimony to our spirit that we are the
sons of God.”584
He gives us this testimony, by the filial affection for God which He
Inspires In us. He is thus the pledge of our inheritance.”585

We also need the Holy Ghost to console us in the
temptations of the devil and the afflictions of this life. The
unction which He pours into our souls sweetens our sorrows,
strengthens our wavering wills, and makes us at times find a true,
supernatural savor in crosses.

Lastly, as Father Lallemant says so well: “The
Holy Ghost consoles us in our exile on earth, far from God. This
exile causes an inconceivable torment in holy souls, for these poor
souls experience in themselves a sort of infinite void, which we have
in ourselves and all creation cannot fill, which can be filled only
by the enjoyment of God. While they are separated from Him, they
languish and suffer a long martyrdom that would be unbearable to them
without the consolations which the Holy Ghost gives them from time to
time. . . . A single drop of the interior sweetness that the Holy
Ghost pours into the soul, ravishes it out of itself and causes a
holy inebriation.”586
Such is indeed the profound meaning of the name given to the Holy
Ghost: Paraclete or Comforter.

On the subject of the ascending gradation of the
seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, which we discussed in this chapter, we
should note the following important statement made by St. John of the
Cross. It throws great light on the unitive way, which we shall
discuss farther on. Treating of the transforming union, the mystical
doctor wrote in A Spiritual Canticle of the Soul: “The
cellar is the highest degree of love to which the soul may attain in
this life, and is therefore said to be the inner. It follows from
this that there are other cellars not so interior; that is, the
degrees of love by which souls reach this, the last. These cellars
are seven in number, and the soul has entered into them all when it
has in perfection the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, so far as it is
possible for it. . . . The last and inmost cellar is entered by few
in this world, because therein is wrought the perfect union with God,
the union of the spiritual marriage.”587

These lines of St. John of the Cross express as
clearly as possible the doctrine which we set forth in the course of
this entire work on the full development of the life of grace.

Chapter 23: The Discerning of Spirits

Docility to the Holy Ghost, which we spoke of in the
preceding chapter, requires, as we said, interior silence, habitual
recollection, and the spirit of detachment in order to hear His
inspirations, which at first are similar to a secret instinct that
increasingly manifests its divine origin if we are faithful to it.
This docility also requires that the inspirations of the Holy Ghost
be discerned from those which might lead us astray, from those of two
other spirits or inspirations, which may at first appear good, but
which lead to death. The discerning of spirits is, consequently, a
subject we should consider.

By the discerning of spirits may be understood one of
the gratiae gratis datae, mentioned by St. Paul,588
by which the saints occasionally discern at once whether, for
example, a person is speaking or acting through the spirit of true
charity or only simulating this virtue. But by the discerning of
spirits may also be meant a wise discretion proceeding from infused
prudence with the cooperation of acquired prudence and the higher
help of the gift of counsel and of the graces of state granted to the
spiritual director who is faithful to his duties. It is with this
second meaning that we shall discuss the discerning of spirits.

This question was treated by St. Anthony the hermit,
patriarch of monks;589
by St. Bernard in his thirty-third Sermon; by Cardinal Bona,590
by St. Ignatius,591
by Scaramelli,592
and many other writers who draw their inspiration from those who
preceded them.

By spirit is meant the tendency to judge, will, or
act in one way or another; thus we speak of the spirit of
contradiction, dispute, and so on. But in spirituality especially, we
distinguish three spirits: the spirit of God; the purely natural
spirit, proceeding from our fallen nature, which also has its
impulses, fortitude, lyricism, its momentary enthusiasms, which may
create illusion; lastly, the spirit of the devil to whose interest it
is to hide himself and disguise himself as an angel of light. For
this reason St. John says in his First Epistle: “Dearly
beloved, believe not every spirit; but try the spirits if they be of
God; because many false prophets are gone out into the world.”593

Generally one of three spirits is dominant in every
soul: in the perverse, the devil; in the tepid, the natural spirit;
in those who are beginning to give themselves seriously to the
interior life, the Spirit of God habitually dominates, but there are
many interferences of the natural spirit and of the spirit of evil.
Consequently no one should ever be judged by one or two isolated
acts, but by his whole life. Even in the perfect, God permits certain
imperfections, at times more apparent than real, to keep them in
humility and to give them frequent opportunity to practice the
contrary virtues. There are persons advanced in the ways of God, who
are, as the result of an illness (for example, a progressive
infection of the blood), inclined to exceptional irritability. They
are like people badly dressed, because their illness increases, as it
were tenfold, the painful impression produced by contradictions, and
sometimes the latter are incessant. There may be great merit in this
struggle, and great patience in seeming impatience.

It is, therefore, most important to discern clearly
what spirit moves us, what is God’s action in us and what is
our own, according to the words of St. John in the prologue of his
Gospel: “But as many as received Him, He gave them power to be
made the sons of God, to them that believe in His name, who are born
not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man,
but of God.”594
To be “born of God,” is our great title of nobility, and
we may say of it more than of any other:Noblesse oblige.

The great principle of the discerning of spirits was
given to us by our Lord Himself in the Gospel when He said: “Beware
of false prophets, who come to you in the clothing of sheep, but
inwardly they are ravening wolves. By their fruits you shall know
them. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so
every good tree bringeth forth good fruit, and the evil tree bringeth
forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither
can an evil tree bring forth good fruit.”595

Those, in fact, who are animated by an evil intention
cannot long hide it. It does not delay, says St. Thomas,596
in manifesting itself in different ways: first of all, in things that
must be accomplished instantly without time to deliberate and to
conceal its intent; then in tribulations, as we read in
Ecclesiasticus: “There is a friend for his own occasion, and he
will not abide in the day of thy trouble.”597
Likewise, men show their character when they cannot obtain what they
wish or when they have already obtained it; thus when a man attains
power, he shows what he is.

The tree is known by its fruit: that is, if our
fundamental will is good, it yields good fruit. If we hear the word
of God that we may put it into practice, people are not long in
seeing it; if, on the contrary, we hear it and content ourselves with
saying, “Lord, Lord,” without doing the will of God, how
can we expect good fruit? In the light of this principle, “The
tree is judged by its fruit,” we can judge what spirit moves
us. We must see the results of its influence and compare them with
what the Gospel tells us about the principal Christian virtues:
humility and mortification or abnegation on the one hand, and, on the
other, the three theological virtues of faith, hope, love of God and
of souls in God.

THE SIGNS OF THE SPIRIT
OF NATURE

In consequence of original sin, nature is the enemy
of mortification and humiliations; it seeks self while increasingly
disregarding in practice the value of the three theological virtues.
In the life of piety as elsewhere, nature pursues pleasure, and it
falls into spiritual gluttony, which is the seeking after self and,
therefore, the contrary of the spirit of faith and of love of God.

At the first difficulties or aridities, the spirit of
nature stands still, quits the interior life. Often, under the
pretext of the apostolate; it takes satisfaction in its natural
activity, in which the soul becomes increasingly exterior; it
confounds charity with philanthropy. Let contradiction, let trial
arise, nature complains of the cross, grows irritated, and becomes
discouraged. Its first fervor was only a passing enthusiasm; it is
indifferent to the glory of God, to His reign, and to the salvation
of souls; it is the negation of the zeal or ardor of charity. The
spirit of nature is summed up in one word: egoism.

After seeking and failing to find pleasure in the
interior life, it declares that one must prudently avoid all
exaggeration in austerity, prayer, all mysticism; and from this point
of view, a person is already a mystic who daily reads a chapter of
The Imitation with recollection. It declares that one must
follow the common way, by which it means the common way of tepidity
or mediocrity, an unstable mean between good and evil, but closer to
evil than to good. It seeks rather frequently to make this mediocrity
pass for moderation, for the happy mean of virtue. In reality, the
happy medium is also a summit above contrary vices, whereas
mediocrity seeks to remain halfway between this summit and the
depths, the inconveniences of which it would like to avoid without
any true love of virtue.

The spirit of nature is depicted by St. Paul as
follows: “The sensual man perceiveth not these things that are
of the Spirit of God. For it is foolishness to him, and he cannot
understand, because it is spiritually examined.”598
The egoist judges everything from his individual point of view and
not from God’s. Gradually the spirit of faith, confidence, love
of God and souls disappears in him; he relies on himself, weakness
itself. At times, however, the gravity of his own ill enlightens him
and reminds him of the Savior’s words: “Without Me you
can do nothing.”

THE SIGNS OF THE SPIRIT
OF THE DEVIL

The devil first lifts us up by inspiring us with
pride, subsequently to cast us down into trouble, discouragement, and
even despair. To recognize his influence, we must consider it in
relation to mortification, humility, and the three theological
virtues.

The devil does not necessarily, as nature does,
disincline us to mortification; on the contrary, he urges certain
souls toward an exaggerated, very visible, exterior mortification,
especially in centers where it is held in honor. Such a course of
action keeps pride alive and ruins health. But the devil does not
incline a soul to the interior mortification of the imagination,
heart, self-will, and personal judgment, although he sometimes
simulates it in us by inspiring us with scruples about trifles and
great liberality on dangerous or serious matters. He gives us a great
opinion of ourselves, leads us to prefer ourselves to others, to
boast of ourselves, unwittingly to pray like the Pharisee.

This spiritual pride is often accompanied by a false
humility which makes us speak ill of ourselves on certain points in
order to hinder others from speaking ill about us on another point,
and in order to give the impression that we are humble. Or indeed it
makes us confound humility with timidity, which is rather the fear of
re­buffs and scorn.

Instead of nourishing faith by the consideration of
the teaching of the Gospel, the spirit of evil draws the attention of
certain souls to what is most extraordinary and marvelous, of a
nature to make us esteemed, or again to what is foreign to our
vocation. He inspires a missionary with the thought of becoming a
Carthusian, a Carthusian with that of going to evangelize the
infidel. Or, on the contrary, he leads others to minimize the
supernatural, to modernize faith by the reading, for example, of
liberal, Protestant works.

His way of exciting hope is to give rise to
presumption, to lead us to wish to be saints immediately without
traversing the indispensable stages and the way of abnegation. He
even inspires us with a certain impatience with ourselves and with
vexation instead of contrition.

Far from causing our charity to grow, he cultivates
self-love in us and, according to temperaments and circumstances,
makes charity deviate either in the direction of a humanitarian
sentimentalism of extreme indulgence, or toward liberalism under the
guise of generosity, or, on the contrary, toward a bitter zeal, which
chides others indiscriminately instead of correcting itself. He shows
us the mote in our neighbor’s eye, when there is a beam in our
own.

Instead of giving peace, this spirit engenders
dissensions, hatreds. People no longer dare to talk to us; we would
not put up with contradiction. An encumbering personalism can thus
lead a man to see only himself and unconsciously to place himself on
a pedestal.

Should we commit a very evident sin, which we cannot
conceal, we fall into confusion, vexation, discouragement; and the
devil, who veiled the danger from us before the sin, now exaggerates
the difficulties of turning back to God and seeks to lead us to
spiritual desolation. He fashions souls to his own image; he rose
through pride and he fell in despair.

Great care must therefore be exercised if we have
lively sensible devotion and come forth from prayer with increased
self-love, preferring ourselves to others, failing in simplicity with
our superiors and director. The lack of humility and obedience is a
certain indication that it is not God who guides us.

THE SIGNS OF THE SPIRIT
OF GOD

The signs of the spirit of God are contrary to those
of the spirit of nature and of the devil. The spirit of God inclines
us to exterior mortification, in which it differs from the spirit of
nature, but to an exterior mortification regulated by discretion and
obedience, which will not attract attention to us or ruin our health.
Moreover, it makes us understand that exterior mortification is of
little value if not accompanied by that of the heart, of self-will,
and of personal judgment; in this respect, the spirit of God differs
from the spirit of the devil.

The spirit of God inspires true humility, which
forbids us to prefer ourselves to others, does not fear scorn, is
silent about divine favors received, does not deny them if they
exist, but refers all their glory to God. It leads us to nourish our
faith with what is most simple and profound in the Gospel, while
remaining faithful to tradition and fleeing novelties. It shows us
our Lord in superiors, and hereby develops our spirit of faith. It
quickens hope and preserves us from presumption. It makes us ardently
desire the living waters of prayer, reminding us that we must reach
them by degrees and by the way of humility, renunciation, and the
cross. It gives a holy indifference in regard to human success.

The spirit of God augments the fervor of charity,
gives zeal for the glory of God, forgetfulness of self. It leads us
to think first of God and to leave the care of our interests to Him.
It stirs up the love of our neighbor in us, showing therein the great
sign of the love of God. It hinders us from judging rashly, from
taking scandal without motive; it inspires meek and patient zeal
which edifies by prayer and example instead of irritating by untimely
admonitions. The spirit of God gives patience in trial, love of the
cross, and love of enemies. It gives peace with ourselves and with
others, and even quite often interior joy. Then, if we should happen
to fall, it speaks to us of mercy. According to St. Paul, “The
fruit of the Spirit is charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity,
goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency,
chastity,”599
which are united to obedience and humility.

If it is a question of one act in particular, this is
a sign that God is visiting our soul when no natural cause has
brought the profound consolation with which it suddenly feels itself
filled. God alone penetrates thus into the innermost depths of the
soul. However, we must distinguish carefully from this first moment
of happiness those which follow it, although the soul still feels the
grace received, for in the second moment it often happens that of
ourselves we form certain thoughts which are no longer inspired by
God and into which error may slip.

Rarely does the Holy Ghost make revelations; they are
an extraordinary grace that it would be presumptuous to desire, but
frequently the interior Guest gives His inspirations to fervent souls
make them taste certain words of the Gospel. Then, under the divine
inspiration, the faithful soul should go forward like the artist who
follows his genius and who, without thinking of the rules of art,
observes them in a superior and spontaneous manner. Then are
harmonized humility and zeal, fortitude and meekness, the simplicity
of the dove and the prudence of the serpent. Thus the Holy Spirit
leads faithful souls to the harbor of eternity.600

Chapter 24: The Sacrifice of the Mass and Proficients

When we discussed the purification of the souls of
beginners601,
we spoke of assistance at Mass as a source of sanctification. We
shall now treat of the Sacrifice of the Mass in the illuminative way
of proficients.

The excellence of the Sacrifice of the Mass, as we
said602,
comes from the fact that the Mass is in substance the same sacrifice
as that of the cross, because it is the same principal Priest who
continues really to offer Himself through His ministers, the same
Victim really present on the altar who is really offered, only the
manner of offering being different: on the cross there was a bloody
immolation, whereas in the Mass there is a sacramental immolation
through the separation, not physical but sacramental, of the body and
blood of the Savior by virtue of the double consecration. This
sacramental immolation is the memorial of the bloody immolation that
is past and the sign of the interior oblation perpetually living in
the heart of Christ, who, as St. Paul says, “is always living
to make intercession for us.”603
This interior oblation of Jesus, which was like the soul of the
sacrifice of the cross, remains the soul of the Sacrifice of the
Mass, which perpetuates in substance that of Calvary.

Deeper penetration daily into what constitutes the
infinite value of the sacrifice of the altar is essential to progress
in the interior life. Speaking to the Lutherans, who suppressed the
Eucharistic sacrifice, St. John Fisher declared that: “The Mass
is like the sun which daily illumines and warms all Christian life.”

The Christian and Catholic doctrine of the Sacrifice
of the Mass may be penetrated either in an abstract and speculative
manner or in a concrete and experimental manner by uniting oneself
personally to the Savior’s oblation.

Proficients should live by the four ends of the
sacrifice: adoration, reparation, petition, and thanksgiving. Blessed
Peter Eymard insisted greatly on this point. That a proficient may
live more profoundly by the Mass, he should, in union with our Lord,
offer up everything painful in each day and throughout his life, even
until his entrance into heaven. It is fitting that he make in advance
the sacrifice of his life to obtain the grace of a holy death.
Spiritual progress is, in fact, essentially ordered to the last act
of love here on earth. If well prepared for by our whole life and
very well made, this act will open the gates of heaven to us
immediately.

To enter the depths of the Mass, we must place
ourselves in the school of the Mother of God. More than anyone else
in the world, Mary was associated with the sacrifice of her Son,
sharing in all His sufferings in the measure of her love for Him.

Some saints, in particular the stigmatics, for
example, St. Francis of Assisi and St. Catherine of Siena, have been
exceptionally united to the sufferings and merits of our Savior. But
profound as this union was, in comparison with Mary’s it was
insignificant. By a most intimate experimental knowledge and by the
greatness of her love, Mary at the foot of the cross entered the
depths of the mystery of the redemption more than did St. John, St.
Peter, or St. Paul. She entered it in the measure of the plenitude of
grace which she had received; in the measure of her faith, of her
love, of the gifts of understanding and wisdom which she had in a
degree proportionate to her charity.

That we may enter a little into this mystery and draw
from it practical lessons which will enable us to prepare ourselves
for a good death, we should think of the sacrifice we ought to make
of our lives in union with Mary at the foot of the cross.

The dying are often exhorted to make the sacrifice of
their lives in order to give a satisfactory, meritorious, and
impetrating value to their last sufferings. The sovereign pontiffs,
in particular Pius X, have invited the faithful to offer in advance
these sufferings of the last moment, which may perhaps be very great,
that they may be well disposed to offer them more generously in their
last hour.

But that we may even now make this sacrifice of our
lives rightly, we should make it in union with the sacrifice of the
Savior sacramentally perpetuated on the altar during Mass, in union
with the sacrifice of Mary, Mediatrix and Coredemptrix. And to see
clearly all that this oblation implies, it is expedient to recall
here the four ends of the sacrifice: adoration, reparation, petition,
and thanksgiving. We shall consider them successively and draw from
them the lessons that they hold for us.

ADORATION

Jesus on the cross made His death a sacrifice of
adoration. It was the most perfect accomplishment of the precept of
the Decalogue: “Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and shalt
serve Him only.”604
Jesus used these divine words when He replied to Satan, who, after
showing Him all the kingdoms of the world, said to Him: “All
these will I give Thee, if falling down Thou wilt adore me.”605

Adoration is due to God alone because of His
sovereign excellence as Creator, because He alone is eternally
subsistent Being, Wisdom, and Love. The adoration due Him should be
both exterior and interior and should be inspired by love; it should
be adoration in spirit and in truth.

Adoration of infinite value was offered to God by
Christ in Gethsemane when He prostrated Himself, saying: “My
Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from Me.
Nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.”606
Christ’s adoration of the Father recognized in a practical and
profound manner the sovereign excellence of God, Master of life and
death, of God who, through the love of the Savior, willed to make
death, the penalty of sin, serve as reparation for sin and for our
salvation. In this eternal decree of God, which contains the entire
history of the world, there is a sovereign excellence, recognized by
the adoration of Gethsemane.

The Savior’s adoration continued on the cross,
and Mary associated herself with it in the measure of the plenitude
of grace which she had received and which had not ceased to grow. At
the moment of the crucifixion of her Son, she adored the rights of
God, the Author of life, who for the eternal good of souls was about
to make the death of her innocent Son serve as reparation for sin.

In union with our Lord and His holy Mother, let us
adore God and say from our hearts, as Pius X invited us to do: “O
Lord, my God, from this moment with a tranquil and submissive heart,
I accept from Thy hand the type of death that it shall please Thee to
send me, with all its anguish, sufferings, and sorrows.”
Whoever recites this act of resignation after confession and
Communion once in he course of his life, will gain a plenary
indulgence that will be applied to him at the hour of death,
according to the purity of his conscience. We would do well, however,
to repeat this act of oblation daily, and by so doing prepare
ourselves to make our death, in union with the sacrifice of Christ
continued in substance on the altar, a sacrifice of adoration. And
while we are making this act, we should consider the sovereign
dominion of God, the majesty and goodness of Him who “leadest
down to hell, and bringest up again.”607
“For it is Thou, O Lord, that hast power of life and death, and
leadest down to the gates of death, and bringest back again.”608
This adoration of God, Master of life and death, may be made in quite
different ways, according as souls are more or less enlightened. Is
there a better way than thus to unite oneself daily to the Savior’s
sacrifice of adoration?

Let us from now on be adorers in spirit and in truth.
May our adoration be so sincere and so profound that it will be
reflected on our life and dispose us for that which we should have in
our hearts at the moment of our death.

REPARATION

A second end of the Sacrifice of the Mass is
reparation of the offense offered to God by sin and satisfaction for
the punishment due to sin. Since adoration should, properly speaking,
be reparatory, we ought to make our death a propitiatory sacrifice.

Christ satisfied superabundantly for our sins
because, says St. Thomas,609
in offering His life far us, He made an act of love which pleased God
more than all the sins of the human race displeased Him. His charity
was far greater than the malice of His executioners; His charity had
an infinite value which it drew from the personality of the Word.

He satisfied for us, the members of His mystical
body. But as the first cause does not render the secondary causes
superfluous, the Savior’s sacrifice does not render ours
useless, but arouses it and gives it its value. Mary set us the
example by uniting herself to the sufferings of her Son; she thus
satisfied for us to the point of meriting the title of coredemptrix.
She accepted the martyrdom of her Son, whom she not only cherished
but legitimately adored, and whom she loved most tenderly from the
moment she conceived Him virginally.

Even more heroic than the patriarch Abraham ready to
immolate his son Isaac, Mary offered her Son for our salvation, and
saw Him die in the most atrocious physical and moral sufferings. An
angel did not come and put a stop to the sacrifice and say to Mary,
as to the patriarch, in the name of the Lord: “Now I know that
thou fearest God, and hast not spared thy only-begotten son for My
sake.”610
Mary saw the effective and full realization of Jesus’ sacrifice
of reparation, of which that of Isaac was only a figure. She suffered
then from sin in the measure of her love for God whom sin offends,
for her Son whom sin crucified, for our souls which sin ravages and
puts to death. The charity of the Blessed Virgin incomparably
surpassed that of the patriarch, and in her more than in him, were
realized the words which he heard: “Because thou hast done this
thing, and hast not spared thy only-begotten son for My sake, I will
bless thee, and I will multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven.”611

Since the sacrifice of Jesus and Mary was a sacrifice
of propitiation or reparation for sin, of satisfaction for the
punishment due to sin, let us, in union with them, make the sacrifice
of our lives a reparation for all our sins. Let us from now on ask
that our last moments may have both a meritorious and an expiatory
value, and let us also ask for the grace to make this sacrifice with
great love, which will increase its twofold value. We should be happy
to pay this debt to divine justice that order may be fully
re-established in us. If, in this spirit, we unite ourselves
intimately to the Masses that are being celebrated every day, if we
unite ourselves to the oblation always living in the heart of Christ,
an oblation which is the soul of these Masses, then we shall obtain
the grace to unite ourselves to them in the same way at the hour of
our death. If this union of love with Christ Jesus is daily more
intimate, the satisfaction of purgatory will be notably shortened for
us. We may even receive the grace to complete our purgatory on earth
while meriting, while growing in love, instead of after death without
meriting.

PETITION

The daily sacrifice, like that of the hour of death,
should be not only a sacrifice of adoration and reparation, but also
a sacrifice of petition in union with Jesus and Mary.

St. Paul writes to the Hebrews: “[ Christ]
offering up prayers and supplications . . . was heard for His
reverence. . . . And being consummated, He became, to all that obey
Him, the cause of eternal salvation.”612
Let us call to mind Christ’s sacerdotal prayer after the Last
Supper and shortly before the sacrifice of the cross: in it Jesus
prayed for His apostles and for us. And let us be mindful of the fact
that He is “always living to make intercession for us,”613
in particular in the Sacrifice of the Mass, of which He is the
principal Priest.

Jesus, who prayed for His executioners, prays for the
dying who recommend themselves to Him. With Him the Blessed Virgin
Mary intercedes, remembering that we have often said to her: “Holy
Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our
death.”

The dying man should unite himself to the Masses
being celebrated far and near; he should ask through them, through
the great prayer of Christ which continues in them, for the grace of
a good death or final perseverance, the grace of graces, that of the
elect. He should ask this grace not only for himself, but for all
those who are dying at the same time.

To dispose ourselves even now to make this act of
petition in our last hour, we should often pray at Mass for those who
will die in the course of the day. Following the recommendation of
Pope Benedict XV, we should occasionally have a Mass offered to
obtain through this infinitely valuable sacrifice of petition the
grace of a good death, or the application of our Savior’s
merits. We should also have Masses offered for those of our relatives
and friends about whose salvation we have reason to be concerned, in
order to obtain for them the final grace, and also for those whom we
may have scandalized and perhaps led astray from the way of God.

THANKSGIVING

Lastly, everyone should daily prepare himself to make
his death, in union with our Lord and Mary, a sacrifice of
thanksgiving for all the benefits received since baptism, keeping in
mind the many absolutions and Communions that have reinstated or kept
him in the way of salvation.

Christ made His death a sacrifice of thanksgiving
when He said: “It is consummated”;614
Mary uttered this “Consummatum est” with Him. This
form of prayer, which continues in the Mass, will not cease even when
the last Mass has been said at the end of the world. When there will
no longer be any sacrifice properly so called, there will be its
consummation, and in it there will always be the adoration and
thanksgiving of the elect who, united to our Savior and to Mary, will
sing the Sanctus with the angels and glorify God while thanking Him.

This thanksgiving is admirably expressed by the words
of the ritual which the priest says at the bedside of the dying after
giving them a last absolution and Holy Viaticum. “Go forth from
this world, Christian soul, in the name of God the Father almighty,
who created thee, in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living
God, who suffered for thee, in the name of the glorious and holy
Mother of God, the Blessed Virgin Mary, in the name of Blessed
Joseph, her predestined spouse, in the name of the angels and
archangels, in the name of the patriarchs, prophets, apostles,
martyrs, in the name of all the saints of God. May thy dwelling today
be in peace and thy rest in the heavenly Jerusalem, through Jesus
Christ, our Lord.”

To conclude, we should often repeat, in order to give
it its full value, the act recommended by Pope Pius X, and we should
ask Mary for the grace to make our death a sacrifice of adoration,
reparation, petition, and thanksgiving. When we assist the dying, we
should exhort them to make this sacrifice while uniting themselves to
the Masses then being celebrated. We ourselves should even now make
it in advance and often renew it each day as if it were to be our
last. By so doing we prepare ourselves to make it very well at the
last moment. Then we shall understand that if God leads the soul down
to the gates of death, He brings it back again.615
Our death will be as if transfigured; we shall call on the Savior and
His holy Mother that they may come and get us and grant us the last
of graces which will definitively assure our salvation, by a last act
of faith, trust, and love.616

What we have just said of the sacrifice of our lives
in union with the Sacrifice of the Mass, should be understood by an
interior soul in a realistic and practical manner that will make him
live the words of St. Paul: “I die daily.”617
It is a question here of accepting in advance with patience and love
not only the sufferings of the last moments of life, but all the
physical and moral sufferings which God has prepared from all
eternity to purify us and make us work for the salvation of souls.
These sufferings are of all sorts: want of consideration,
contradictions, defamation. They are insignificant in comparison with
those which Jesus bore for love of us; nevertheless, because of our
weakness, they seem very heavy to us at times. Let us accept them at
Mass, before Holy Communion, at the moment of the breaking of the
host, which symbolizes the breaking of all the bruises that Jesus
bore for us.

May this breaking make us think of what should be in
us: fervent contrition. Then, more conscious of our sins and of the
necessity of making reparation, for them, we shall more willingly
accept in advance the physical and moral sufferings which Providence
reserves for us. We shall accept them, asking for a serious beginning
of the love of the cross or the love of Jesus crucified. Should we
not return Him love for love?

We should reread what Christ says to His faithful
servant according toThe Imitation: “Son, let not the
labors which thou hast undertaken for My sake crush thee, neither let
tribulations, from whatever source, cast thee down; but in every
occurrence let My promise strengthen and console thee. I am
sufficient to recompense thee beyond all bounds and measure. . . .
Mind what thou art about: labor faithfully in My vineyard: I will be
thy reward; write, read, sing, lament, keep silence, pray, bear
adversities manfully: eternal life is worth all these, and greater
combats. Peace shall come one day, which is known to the Lord. . . .
Oh! if thou couldst see the everlasting crowns of the saints in
heaven, and in how great glory they now triumph, who appeared
contemptible heretofore to this world, and as it were even unworthy
of life, doubtless thou wouldst immediately cast thyself down to the
very earth, and wouldst rather be ambitious to be in subjection to
all, than to have precedence over so much as one. Neither wouldst
thou covet the pleasant days of this life, but wouldst rather be glad
to suffer tribulation for God’s sake, and esteem it the
greatest gain to be reputed as nothing amongst men.”618

In assisting at the Sacrifice of the Mass or in
celebrating it, we should unite our personal oblation to our
Savior’s, offering Him the contradictions and tribulations
which await us in life, mindful that they may thus become most
fruitful for us. Obstacles may in this way be transformed into means.
The cross was the greatest obstacle that men raised against Jesus; He
made it the greatest instrument of salvation. If each member in the
mystical body performs his duty supernaturally, all the others
benefit, just as, when each little cell in our body functions as it
should, the entire organism profits. For this reason, however little
we may be able to do, its worth is great if it is accomplished in the
spirit of the love of God and of neighbor, in union with Jesus the
eternal Priest. In the greatest calamities little children are asked
to pray; their earnest, humble prayer, united to that of the Savior,
cannot fail to be heard by God.

We may better comprehend what the Mass should be for
proficients by reflecting that its different parts correspond to the
love which purifies (Confiteor, Introit, Kyrie, Gloria), to the love
which enlightens and offers itself (Collect, Epistle, Gospel, Credo,
Offertory), and to the love which sacrifices itself and unites itself
to God (Consecration, Communion, Thanksgiving). Such consideration
reminds us of the purgative way of beginners, the illuminative way of
proficients, and the unitive way of the perfect. These are the normal
phases of the ascent of the soul toward God.

Chapter 25: The Communion of Proficients

Earlier in this work619
we discussed the Communion of those who begin to give themselves
seriously to the interior life. We explained how Holy Communion
sustains, restores, and increases spiritual life, and why it demands
as a condition an upright and pious intention. A fervent Communion,
we said, presupposes hunger for the Eucharist or the keen desire to
receive it in order to be more closely united to our Lord and to grow
in love of God and neighbor. Each of our Communions, we pointed out,
should be substantially more fervent than the preceding one, with a
fervor of will if not of feeling; each should, in fact, increase
charity in us and consequently prepare us to receive our Lord better
and more fruitfully the following day. This is the case in the lives
of the saints, whose ascent toward God is increasingly rapid; the
nearer they approach Him, the more they are drawn by Him, as the
stone falls more rap­idly as it approaches the earth which
attracts it.620
This acceleration in the journey toward God should, therefore, be
realized in the Communion of proficients far more than in that of
beginners. For the child, his first Communion is certainly a great
grace, but the following Communions should always be more fruitful.

That we may see what the Communion of proficients
should be, we should remember that the principal effect of Holy
Communion is the increase of charity. Proficients should grow in this
virtue particularly, remembering that fraternal charity is one of the
great signs of the progress of the love of God.621
This will be more readily understood by reflecting that Communion,
through union with our Lord, assures the unity and growth of His
mystical body.622

THE HOLY TABLE AND THE
UNITY OF THE MYSTICAL BODY

St. Paul writes: “The chalice of benediction
which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? And
the bread which we break, is it not the partaking of the body of the
Lord? For we, being many, are one bread, one body: all that partake
of one bread.”623
At this common table of the faithful, every dissension should
disappear.

As St. John Chrysostom624
and St. Augustine625
explain, the Communion of the faithful united at the Holy Table to
nourish their souls with the body of our Lord and to be increasingly
incorporated in Him, is the sign of the unity of the Church and the
bond of charity. All the faithful who communicate show, in fact, that
they have the same faith in the Eucharist, which supposes all the
other mysteries of Christianity; they show that they have the same
hope of heaven and the same love of God and of souls in God, the same
worship. This it is which makes St. Augustine say: “O sacrament
of true piety, sign of unity, bond of charity! . . . The Lord has
given us His body and blood under the species of bread and wine, and
as the bread is made out of many grains of wheat and the wine from
many grapes, so the Church of Christ is made out of the multitude of
the faithful united by charity.”626

Moreover, Pope Pius X, when inviting the faithful to
frequent and daily Communion, recalled this great principle: “The
Holy Table is the symbol, the root, and the principle of Catholic
unity.” In the light of this principle, we should, before
receiving Communion, think of the obstacles that we ourselves may
oppose to the supernatural union of charity with Christ Jesus and His
members, and should ask Him for light to see these obstacles more
clearly and generosity to remove them. If we are negligent in doing
so ourselves, we should ask the Lord Himself to remove them, even
though we suffer greatly thereby. The Christian who communicates with
these profoundly sincere dispositions certainly receives a notable
increase of charity, which unites him more closely to our Lord and to
souls in Him.

In this sense the author of The Imitation
invites us to say as a preparation for Holy Communion: “I offer
to Thee all my good works, though very few and imperfect, that Thou
mayest amend and sanctify them; that Thou mayest have a pleasurable
regard to them, and make them acceptable to Thee and always make them
tend to better. . . . I offer to Thee also all the pious desires of
devout persons; the necessities of my parents, friends, brothers,
sisters, and all those that are dear to me . . . and who have desired
and besought me to offer up prayers and Masses for themselves and all
theirs. . . . I offer up also to Thee prayers and this sacrifice of
propitiation for them in particular who have in any way injured me,
grieved me, or abused me, or have inflicted upon me any hurt or
injury. And for all those likewise whom I have at any time grieved,
troubled, oppressed, or scandalized by words or deeds, knowingly or
unknowingly; that it may please Thee to forgive us all our sins and
mutual offenses. Take, O Lord, from our hearts all suspicion,
indignation, anger, and contention, and whatever else may wound
charity and lessen brotherly love.”627

Communion received with these dispositions
effectively assures in a concrete and experiential manner the unity
of the mystical body, union with our Savior and with all souls
vivified by Him. It is thus a powerful help in the midst of so many
causes of dissensions among individuals, classes, and peoples. It
should contribute greatly to assure the reign of Christ through the
peace of Christ, above all the inconsistent dreams of those who seek
a principle of union, not in God but in the passions that divide men.

COMMUNION AND THE GROWTH
OF THE MYSTlCAL BODY OF CHRIST

Holy Communion should contribute to assure not only
the unity, but the growth of the mystical body of our Savior. St.
Paul wrote to the Ephesians that we are all called by God to attain
“unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the age of the
fullness of Christ; that henceforth we be no more children tossed to
and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine. . . . But
doing the truth in charity, we may in all things grow up in Him who
is the head, even Christ; from whom the whole body, being compacted
and fitly joined together, . . . maketh increase of the body, unto
the edifying of itself in charity.”628
This influence of the Savior on His members is exercised particularly
by Eucharistic Communion. Christians who are nourished by the bread
of life reach the perfection which God destines for them.

St. Thomas even says: “Baptism is the beginning
of the spiritual life, and the door of the sacraments; whereas the
Eucharist is, as it were, the consummation of the spiritual life, and
the end of all the sacraments, . . . for by the hallowings of all the
sacraments preparation is made for receiving or consecrating the
Eucharist. . . . Therefore, from the act of children being baptized,
they are destined by the Church to the Eucharist,”629
somewhat as, in the natural order, childhood is ordered to the full
development of adult age. In this sense, at least the implicit desire
of the effect of the Eucharist is necessary for salvation.630
Therefore it is impossible to reach the perfection of Christian life
without preparing oneself to receive each Communion with increased
fervor of will and greater fruit.

In addition, not only each Christian, but each
parish, each diocese, the entire Church in each generation, reaches
maturity, the fruitfulness of “the perfect age,” that it
may propagate the faith which it has received and transmit it to the
following generation like a sacred seed. Each epoch has its
difficulties, and, with the return of the masses to unbelief, the
difficulties of our day might before long resemble those which the
early Church encountered during the centuries of persecution. The
Christian should find his strength in the Eucharist today as in the
days of the catacombs. He should hunger for the Eucharist, that is,
have an ardent desire to be united to Christ by a profound union of
the will, which, by the persevering practice of the virtues, will
resist all temptations and enable him to cope with the difficult
circumstances in which he lives.

With the author of The Imitation we should
say: “Lord God, when shall I be wholly united to Thee and
absorbed in Thee, and altogether unmindful of myself? Thou in me, and
I in Thee; and thus grant us both equally to continue in one. Verily,
Thou art my Beloved, the choicest among thousands,631
in whom my soul is well pleased to dwell all the days of this life.
Verily, Thou art my Peace­maker:, in whom is sovereign peace and
true rest; and out of whom is labor and sorrow and infinite misery.
Thou art in truth a hidden God,632
and Thy counsel is not with the wicked, but Thy conversation is with
the humble and the simple. Oh, how sweet, O Lord, is Thy spirit,633
who, to show Thy sweetness toward Thy children, vouchsafest to
refresh them with that most delicious bread which cometh down from
heaven!”634

The Psalmist had already exclaimed: “O how
great is the multitude of Thy sweetness, O Lord, which Thou hast
hidden for them that fear Thee!”635
Since the institution of the Eucharist, how well these words are
verified by a fervent Communion! We read in The Imitation:
“For they truly know their Lord in the breaking of bread, whose
heart burneth so mightily within them, from Jesus walking with them.
Alas, far from me too often is such affection and devotion, such
vehement love and ardor. Be Thou merciful to me, O good Jesus, sweet
and gracious, and grant Thy poor mendicant to feel, sometimes at
least, in Holy Communion some little of the cordial affection of Thy
love, that my faith may be more strengthened, my hope in Thy goodness
increased; and that my charity, once perfectly enkindled, and having
tasted the manna of heaven, may never die away. Powerful, indeed, is
Thy mercy to grant me the grace I desire, and in Thy great clemency,
when the time of Thy good pleasure arrives, to visit me with the
spirit of fervor.”636

Hunger for the Eucharist is thus expressed by the
same author: “With great devotion and ardent love, with all
affection and fervor of heart, I desire to receive Thee, O Lord, as
many saints and devout persons, who were most pleasing to Thee in
holiness of life and in the most burning devotion, have desired Thee
when they communicated. . . . I desire to reserve nothing for myself,
but freely and most willingly to immolate to Thee myself and all that
is mine. . . . I desire to receive Thee . . . with such faith, hope,
and purity, as Thy most holy Mother, the glorious Virgin Mary,
received and desired Thee, when the angel announced to her the
mystery of the Incarnation . . . ‘. I here offer and present to
Thee the joys of all devout hearts, their ardent affections, their
ecstasies, supernatural illuminations, and heavenly visions, together
with all the virtues and praises that are or shall be celebrated by
all creatures in heaven and earth; . . . thus by all Thou mayest be
worthily praised and glorified forever.”637

The Christian who receives Communion with these
dispositions makes increasingly rapid progress toward God and
certainly brings other souls with him. Thus is assured the growth of
the mystical body of Christ. But we must go a step farther in
generosity.

COMMUNION AND THE GIFT OF
ONESELF

Our Lord commands us: “Love one another, as I
have loved you.”638
He loved us even to dying for us on the cross and giving Himself to
us as food in the Eucharist. The Christian should, therefore, in
Communion learn the gift of self in order to imitate our Lord. The
Eucharistic heart of Jesus, which instituted the Eucharist for us and
daily gives it to us, is the eminent exemplar of the perfect gift of
self. It reminds us that it is more perfect to give than to receive,
to love than to be loved.

Therefore, imitating the example of our Savior, we
should, after receiving, give ourselves to others to bring them the
light of life and peace. A soul that is increasingly incorporated in
our Lord by Holy Communion should in its turn serve somewhat as the
bread of the souls which surround it, following the example of our
Lord who wished to be our bread. To the less enlightened, to the
weak, even to those who wander far from the altar, it should give
itself without counting the cost, in spite of misunderstandings,
coldnesses, and evil actions. By so doing it will certainly cause
souls that have strayed to return to the Eucharistic heart of Jesus,
that “forgotten, despised, outraged heart, slighted by men.”
It is, nevertheless, the heart which loves us, which is “patient
in waiting for us, eager to grant our prayers, desirous that we pray
to it, the burning source of new graces, the silent heart wishing to
speak to souls, the refuge of the hidden life, master of the secrets
of divine union,”639
the heart of Him who seems to sleep, but who watches always and
overflows incessantly with charity.

This heart is the eminent model of the perfect gift
of oneself. For this reason a friend of the Cure of Ars, Father
Chevrier, a holy priest of Lyons, of whom we spoke earlier in this
work, used to say to his spiritual sons: “Following the example
of our Lord, the priest should die to his body, spirit, will,
reputation, family, the world; he should immolate himself by silence,
prayer, work, penance, suffering, and death. The more a man is dead
to himself, the more life he has and the more he gives it. The priest
is a crucified man. He ought also through charity, in imitation of
his Master, to give his body, spirit, time, goods, health, and life;
he should give life by his faith, teaching, words, prayers, powers,
and example. He must become good bread; the priest is a man who is
consumed.”640

What is said here of the priest, should be said in a
certain sense of every perfect Christian, who ought continually to
devote himself in a supernatural manner in order to bring those about
him to the end of man’s journey, which he too often forgets.
Zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls is the answer
which all should give to our Savior’s precept: “Love one
another, as I have loved you.”641
In fervent Communion we shall find that generosity which causes the
gift of God that we have received to radiate on other souls, and
which thus shows the value and the fruits of the Eucharist. We have
only to receive the love of God and to give it back to Him in the
person of our neighbor.

Chapter 26: Devotion to Mary in Proficients

In chapter six of the first part of this work, we
spoke of the influence of Mary Mediatrix, explaining how she
cooperated in the sacrifice of the cross through merit and
satisfaction, how she does not cease to intercede for us, to obtain
for us and distribute to us all the graces that we receive. We shall
apply these principles here, as St. Grignion de Montfort does,642
to show what devotion to Mary should be in proficients. We shall see
what constitutes true devotion to the Blessed Virgin, its degrees,
and its fruits.

TRUE DEVOTION TO MARY

We are not speaking here of an entirely exterior,
presumptuous, inconstant, hypocritical, and interested devotion, but
of true devotion which St. Thomas defines as “promptness of the
will in the service of God.”643
This promptness of the will, which should subsist despite aridity of
the sensible part of the soul, inclines us to render to our Lord and
His holy Mother the worship that is due them.644
As Jesus is our Mediator with His Father, in the same way we should
go to our Savior through Mary. The mediation of the Son throws light
on that of His holy Mother.

They are deluded who claim to reach union with God
without having continual recourse to our Lord. They will hardly
attain to an abstract knowledge of God, and not to that sweet
knowledge called wisdom; a lofty knowledge at once practical, living,
and experiential, which makes us discover the ways of Providence in
the most insignificant things. The quietists were mistaken in holding
that Christ’s sacred humanity was a means useful only at the
beginning of the spiritual life; they did not sufficiently recognize
the universal mediation of our Savior.

Another error consists in wishing to go to our Lord
without passing through Mary. This was one of the errors of the
Protestants. And even some Catholics do not see clearly enough how
expedient it is to have recourse to the Blessed Virgin in order to
enter the intimacy of Christ. As St. Grignion de Montfort says, they
know Mary “only in a speculative, dry, fruitless, indifferent
manner. . . . They fear that devotion toward her is abused and that
injury is done to our Lord by paying excessive honor to His holy
Mother. . . . If they speak of devotion to Mary, it is less to
recommend it than to destroy the abuses of it.”645
They seem to consider Mary “a hindrance in reaching divine
union,”646
whereas all her influence is exercised in order to lead us to it. It
would be just as sensible to say that the holy Cure of Ars was a
hindrance to his parishioners in their progress toward God.

To neglect the Mediators whom God has given us
because of our weakness, shows a lack of humility. Intimacy with our
Lord in prayer will be greatly facilitated by frequent recourse to
Mary.

THE DEGREES OF THIS
DEVOTION

Devotion to Mary, which should exist in every
Christian, ought to grow with charity. The first degree consists in
praying to the Blessed Virgin from time to time, honoring her as the
Mother of God, saying, for example, the Angelus with true
recollection every time it rings. The second degree consists in
having more perfect sentiments of veneration, confidence, and love
for Mary. They lead us to the daily recitation of at least one of the
three parts of the Rosary while we meditate on the joyful, sorrowful,
or glorious mysteries, which are for us the road of eternal life.

The third degree of the true devotion to Mary, that
proper to proficients, consists in consecrating oneself entirely to
our Lord through her. In a clear explanation of this consecration,
St. Grignion de Montfort says: “This devotion consists in
giving oneself entirely to the Blessed Virgin in order to belong
entirely to Jesus Christ through her. We must give her: (1) our body
with all its senses and members (that she may keep them in perfect
purity);(2) our soul with all its powers;(3) our exterior goods,
present and to come;(4) our interior and spiritual goods, our merits,
virtues, and good works, past, present, and future.”647

To have a clear understanding of this oblation, we
must distinguish in our good works between what is incommunicable to
others and what is communicable to other souls. What is
incommunicable in our good works is merit, properly so called (de
condigno), which constitutes a right in justice to an increase of
charity and to eternal life. These personal merits are
incommunicable; in this respect they differ from those of Jesus
Christ who, being constituted the head of humanity and our pledge,
could merit for us in strict justice.

Consequently, if we offer our merits, properly so
called, to the Blessed Virgin, it is not that she may give them to
other souls, but that she may preserve them, make them fructify, and,
if we should have the misfortune to lose them through mortal sin,
that she may obtain for us the grace of so fervent a contrition that
it may enable us to recover not only the state of grace, but the
degree of grace lost; so that if we have lost five talents, we may
recover these five, and not merely two or three.648

What is communicable to others in our good works is
congruous merit; it is also their satisfactory or reparatory value
and their value as impetration or prayer. By congruous merit, based
not on justice, but on the charity or friendship which unites us to
God (in jure amicabili), we can obtain graces for our
neighbor. Thus a good Christian mother draws graces on her children
by her virtuous life because God takes into consideration the
intentions and good works of this generous mother. Likewise, we can
also pray for our neighbor, for his conversion, his progress, for
hardened sinners, the agonizing, the souls in purgatory.

Lastly, we can satisfy for others, we can voluntarily
accept the punishment due to their sins, expiate them, as Mary did
for us at the foot of the cross, and thus draw the divine mercy down
upon them. We can also gain indulgences for the souls in purgatory,
open to them the treasure of the merits of Christ and the saints, and
hasten their deliverance.

If we offer all our vexations and sufferings to Mary
in this way, she will send us crosses proportionate to our strength
aided by grace to make us labor for the salvation of souls.

Who should be advised to make this consecration as we
have explained it? It should not be advised for those who would make
it through sentimentality or spiritual pride without comprehending
its meaning; but it is fitting to counsel it for truly pious and
fervent souls, at first for a time, from one feast of the Blessed
Virgin to another, then for a year. Thus one will become penetrated
by this spirit of abandonment and later can make this act with fruit
for one’s whole life.

It has been objected that such an act strips us and
does not pay our own debt, which will increase our purgatory. This is
the objection made by the devil to St. Bridget when she was preparing
to make a similar act. Our Lord made the saint understand that this
is the objection of self-love, which forgets the goodness of Mary,
who does not let herself be outdone in generosity. By thus stripping
oneself, one receives the hundredfold. And indeed the love to which
this generous act testifies obtains for us even now the remission of
part of our purgatory.

Others object, asking how, after having once and for
all given all our prayers to Mary, we can pray especially for our
parents and friends. The answer to this question is that the Blessed
Virgin knows our duties of charity toward our parents and friends,
and, should we forget to pray for them as we ought, she would remind
us to do so. Moreover, among our parents and friends there are some
who have a particular need of prayers, of which we are often
ignorant; but Mary knows their needs and will thus, without our being
aware of it, make these souls benefit by our prayers. We can always
ask her to favor others.

THE FRUITS OF THIS
DEVOTION

St. Grignion de Montfort says649
that this road to God is easier, and nevertheless more meritorious,
and consequently a more perfect, short, and sure road.

First of all, it is an easier way. “One can in
truth,” he says, “reach divine union by other roads; but
it will be by many more crosses and strange deaths, with many more
difficulties, which he shall conquer with greater difficulty. He
shall have to pass through dark nights, combats, and strange agonies,
steep mountains, very sharp thorns, and frightful deserts. But by way
of Mary, the passage is more sweet and tranquil. On this road, in
truth, are great combats to be fought and great difficulties to be
overcome; but this good Mother takes up her position so near her
faithful servants to enlighten them in their darkness, to illumine
them in their doubts, to sustain them in their struggles and
difficulties that in reality this virginal road to find Jesus Christ
is a road of roses and honey compared with other roads.”
Evidence of this fact appears in the lives of saints who more
particularly followed this way, such as St. Ephrem, St. John
Damascene, St. Bernard, St. Bonaventure, St. Bernardine of Siena, St.
Francis de Sales.

The vision of St. Francis of Assisi in this
connection is well known. One day the saint saw his sons trying to
reach our Lord by a ladder that was red and very steep; after
climbing a few rungs, they would fall back. Our Lord then showed St.
Francis another ladder, white and much less steep, at whose summit
appeared the Blessed Virgin, and He said to Francis: “Advise
your sons to go by the ladder of My Mother.”

By way of Mary the road is easier because the Blessed
Virgin supports us by her gentleness; nevertheless it is a more
meritorious road because Mary obtains for us a greater charity, which
is the principle of merit. The difficulties to be overcome are
certainly an occasion of merit, but the principle of merit is
charity, the love of God, by which we triumph over these
difficulties. We should remember that Mary merited more by her
easiest acts, such as a simple prayer, than did the martyrs in their
torments, for she put more love of God into these easy acts than the
saints did in heroic acts. Since the road by way of Mary is easier
and more meritorious, it is shorter, surer, and more perfect; more
easily traveled, progress on it is more rapid. By submission to the
Mother of God, a person makes greater progress in a short time than
he would make in many years relying excessively on his own personal
prudence. Under the direction of her whom the Incarnate Word obeyed,
he walks with giant steps.

This road is also more perfect, since through Mary
the Word of God came down perfectly to us without losing anything of
His divinity; through her, very little souls can ascend even to the
Most High without fearing anything. She purifies our good works and
increases their value when she presents them to her Son.

Lastly, it is a surer road, on which we are better
preserved from the illusions of the devil who seeks to deceive us,
imperceptibly at first, that later he may lead us into great sin. On
this road we are also preserved from the illusions of day-dreaming
and sentimentality. In the subordination of the causes that transmit
divine grace, Mary exercises, in fact, a salutary influence on our
sensibility; she calms it, rules it, to enable the elevated part of
our soul to receive the influence of our Lord more fruitfully. In
addition, Mary herself is to our sensible faculties a most pure and
holy object, which lifts our soul toward union with God. She gives us
great interior liberty, and, on our urgent petition, she sometimes
obtains our immediate deliverance from the deviations of our sensible
appetites which hinder prayer and intimate union with our Lord. The
purpose of the entire influence of Mary Mediatrix is to lead us to
the intimacy of Jesus, as He Himself leads us to the Father.

It is advisable to ask for Mary’s particular
assistance at the moment of Holy Communion that she may make us share
in her profound piety and love, as if she were to lend us her most
pure heart to receive our Lord worthily. We may with profit make our
thanksgiving in the same way.

We shall conclude by giving the essential parts of
the consecration of oneself to Jesus Christ through Mary’s
hands:

O Eternal and Incarnate Wisdom! O most amiable and
adorable Jesus, true God and true Man, I thank Thee for having
annihilated Thyself, taking the form of a slave, to draw me from the
slavery of the devil. . . . I have recourse to the intercession of
Thy most holy Mother, whom Thou hast given me as a Mediatrix. By this
means I hope to obtain from Thee contrition and the pardon of my
sins, the acquisition and preservation of wisdom.

Hail, Immaculate Mary, Queen of heaven and earth, to
whom everything under God is subject. Hail, safe Refuge of sinners,
whose mercy fails no one; hear and grant my desires for divine
wisdom, and to that end receive the vows and offerings that my
baseness presents to thee.

I, an unfaithful sinner, today renew and ratify in
thy hands my baptismal vows. I forever renounce Satan, his works and
pomps, and I give myself completely to Jesus Christ, Incarnate
Wisdom, to carry my cross after Him all the days of my life. And that
I may be more faithful to Him than I have been hitherto, I choose
thee, O Mary, for my mother.

I give and consecrate to thee my body and soul, my
interior and exterior goods, and the very value of my good works
past, present, and future. Present me to thy Son and grant me the
grace to obtain true wisdom from God, and for that purpose to place
myself in the number of those whom thou dost love, teach, lead, feed,
and protect. O faithful Virgin, render me in all things so perfect a
disciple and imitator of Incarnate Wisdom, Jesus Christ, thy Son,
that by thy intercession and example, I may attain to the plenitude
of His age on earth and His glory in heaven. Amen.650

Chapter 27: The Universal Accessibility of the Mysticism of The
Imitation

At this point in our study, we shall examine in the
light of The Imitation of Jesus Christ the question proposed
at the beginning of this work: namely, whether the infused
contemplation of the mysteries of faith and the union with God
resulting from it are in the normal way of sanctity, and also what
are the dispositions ordinarily required to obtain such a grace.

The Imitation is not a didactic treatise; it
is the experimental story of a soul in love with perfection, a story
written from day to day, following prayer that is now laborious, now
full of light and heavenly inebriation. It is certainly not only an
ascetical book but also a mystical book; it leads to the practice of
the virtues, but in view of contemplation and union with God. It is
manifestly addressed to all interior souls, and in reality all read
it. This is equivalent to saying that the true mysticism of which it
speaks is accessible to all, if they are willing to follow the way of
humility, the cross, continual prayer, and docility to the Holy
Ghost. This fact is one of the strongest reasons in favor of the
affirmative answer to the question proposed.

As Father Dumas, S.M., writes in his beautiful study
on The Imitation: “The Imitation has a beauty, a
virtue which touches, moves, and captivates infirm, indifferent, even
unbelieving hearts. Yet it is not addressed primarily to sinners or
to beginners; it assumes that some progress in virtue has already
been made. It eagerly seeks nothing less than to raise us to
contemplation and the intimate consolations of the life of union.651

“Contemplation, intimate union with God, is the
end, the destiny, and consequently the imperious need of our soul,
which can find rest and peace only in God. And it is because The
Imitation gives a glimpse of this peace and rest, while directing
the soul toward union with the supreme Good, that every soul, even
though very imperfect, experiences on reading this book—which
in reality it only half understands—a comforting sweetness
impossible to explain. Our purpose is to show the essentially
mystical character of The Imitation, to see whether, according
to it, the infused contemplation of the mysteries of faith and the
union with God resulting from it are highly desirable for all, and
then to point out what ascetical dispositions, according to The
Imitation, are ordinarily required to receive such a grace.

THE MYSTICAL CHARACTER OF
THE IMITATION

Is it true that The Imitation is an
essentially mystical and not only an ascetical book?

By the mystical knowledge of God we understand that
knowledge obtained, not by rational speculations or only by faith,
but by a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost in prayer. It is a
quasi­experimental knowledge of God, according to St. Thomas,652
which proceeds from faith vivified by love and enlightened by the
gifts of understanding and of wisdom. St. John of the Cross teaches
the same doctrine: “Infused contemplation is a certain
inflowing of God into the soul whereby God secretly teaches the soul
and instructs it in the perfection of love, without efforts on its
own part beyond a loving attention to God, listening to His voice and
admitting the light He sends, but without understanding how this is
infused contemplation.”653
St. Francis de Sales speaks in similar terms.654

The Imitation continually exhorts the interior
soul to humility, abnegation, and docility, which will prepare it to
receive the grace of contemplation and of union with God. We see this
on every page, and more especially in Book I, chapter 3, and in Book
II, chapters 31 and 43.

In Book I, chapter 3, we read:

Happy is he
whom truth teacheth by itself, not by figures and passing sounds, but
as it is In Itself. . . . Wonderful folly! that, neglecting the
things that are useful and necessary, we give our attention unbidden
to such as are curious and mischievous. . . . He to whom the eternal
Word speaketh is delivered from a multitude of opinions. From the One
Word are all things, and all things speak this One; and this is the
Beginning which also speaketh to us. Without Him no man
understandeth, or rightly judgeth.

I am
oftentimes wearied with the many things I read and hear; in Thee is
all I wish or long for. Let all teachers hold their peace, and all
created things keep silence in Thy presence; do Thou alone speak to
me. The more a man is recollected within himself and interiorly
simple, so much the more and deeper things doth he understand without
labor; for he receiveth the light of understanding from on high. . .
. The humble knowledge of oneself is a surer way to God than deep
researches after science. Knowledge is not to be blamed nor simple
acquaintance with things, good in itself and ordained by God; but a
good conscience and a virtuous life are always to be preferred. . . .
He is truly prudent who esteemeth all earthly things as naught, that
he may win Christ. And he is truly most learned, who doth the will of
God, and forsaketh his own will.

This is the knowledge, the understanding, and the
wisdom, which come from the Holy Ghost, and which, without His divine
inspirations, cannot be preserved.

The author of The Imitation also says:

Lord, I
stand much in need of a grace yet greater, if I must arrive so far
that it may not be in the power of any man or anything created to
hinder me. . . .”Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will
fly and be at rest?”655
. . . And what can be more free than he who desires nothing upon
earth? A man ought, therefore, to soar over above everything created,
and perfectly to forsake himself, and in ecstasy of mind to stand and
see that Thou, the Creator of all, hast nothing like to Thee among
creatures. . . . And this is the reason why there are found so few
contemplative persons, because there are few that know how to
sequester themselves entirely from perishable creatures. For this a
great grace is required, such as may elevate the soul, and lift it up
above itself. And unless a man be elevated in spirit, and freed from
attachment to all creatures, and wholly united to God, whatever he
knows and whatever he has, is of no great importance. . . . There is
a great difference between the wisdom of an illuminated and devout
man, and the knowledge of a learned and studious cleric. Far more
noble is that learning which flows from above from the divine
influence [this is clearly infused contemplation], than that which is
laboriously acquired by the industry of man. Many are found to desire
contemplation, but they are not careful to practice those things
which are required for its attainment. It is also a great impediment
that we rest so much upon signs and sensible things and have but
little of perfect mortification.656

This chapter by itself is most significant and shows
that the infused contemplation of the mysteries of salvation is
highly desirable, that it is in the normal way of sanctity.

Farther on we find these words put on our Lord’s
lips:

I am He
that in an instant elevateth the humble mind to comprehend more
reasons of the eternal truth than if anyone had studied ten years in
the schools. I teach without noise of words, without confusion of
opinions, without ambition of honor, without strife of arguments. I
am He who teacheth to despise earthly things, to loathe things
present, to seek things eternal, to relish them . . . to desire
nothing out of Me, and above all things ardently to love Me. For a
certain person, by loving Me intimately, learned things divine and
spoke wonders. He profited more by forsaking all things than by
studying subtleties. But to some I speak things common, to others
things more particular; to some I sweetly appear in signs and
figures, to others in great light I reveal mysteries. . . . I within
am the Teacher of truth, the Searcher of the heart, the Understander
of thoughts, the Mover of actions, distributing to everyone as I
judge fitting.657

From these excerpts it is evident that the
contemplation spoken of by the author of The Imitation
proceeds from a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which renders
faith penetrating and sweet by making us taste how good the Lord is:
“O taste, and see that the Lord is sweet.”658
Therefore the contemplation in question here is infused.

It is not a question, however, of extraordinary
graces, such as visions, prophetic revelations, and the stigmata, but
rather of an increasingly profound and sweet penetration of the
mysteries of faith, which are superior to all particular contingent
futures, like the end of a war which prophetic light reveals. We see
consequently that the infused contemplation of the mysteries of
faith, here declared so highly desirable, is undoubtedly an eminent
but not an essentially extraordinary grace; it is in the normal way
of sanctity. And if at times the term “extraordinary” is
applied to it, this is in the sense that it is extrinsically so,
because it is rare; but it is not intrinsically so. Far from being
essentially extraordinary, it is infused contemplation that
establishes us in perfect order. Those only are in this perfect order
who penetrate in this way into the inner life of God, who ardently
love the One Thing necessary and see all earthly things in their true
place. Thus the order of charity is established in all the feelings
that are fully subordinated to the love of God and vivified by it.

Therefore, according to The Imitation all
interior souls are called to this infused contemplation and the union
with God resulting from it, at least by a general and remote call, if
not by an individual and proximate call, which may be either simply
sufficient, or efficacious and victorious over all resistance.659

In Book IV of The Imitation, which is devoted to the
Eucharist, the faithful soul asks insistently for the ineffable union
with Jesus Christ. We read: “Who will give me, O Lord, to find
Thee alone, to open my whole heart to Thee, and enjoy Thee as my soul
desireth . . . that Thou alone mayest speak to me, and I to Thee, as
the beloved is wont to speak to his beloved, and a friend to be
entertained with a friend. For this I pray, this I desire, that I may
be wholly united to Thee, and that . . . I may more and more learn to
relish things heavenly and eternal. . . . When shall I be wholly
united to, and absorbed in Thee, and altogether unmindful of myself?
Thou in me, and I in Thee; and thus grant us both equally to continue
in one.”660

We read likewise in chapter 17: “O my God,
Eternal Love, my whole good and never-ending happiness, I desire to
receive Thee with the most vehement desire and most worthy reverence
that any of the saints have ever had or could experience.”

Again he says: “A lover of Jesus and the truth,
a true interior person, who is free from inordinate affections, can
freely turn himself to God, elevate himself above himself in spirit,
and enjoy a delightful repose (ac fruitive quiescere).”661
This is the quiet of fruition, a foretaste of eternal life.

THE DISPOSITIONS REQUIRED
OR THE ASCETICISM OF The Imitation

To receive the special grace of infused contemplation
and of the union with God resulting from it, the author of The
Imitation demands especially the following dispositions:
humility, consideration of the immense benefits of God, abnegation,
purity of heart, and simplicity of intention.

The humility he requires is that which leads the soul
to “love to live unknown and to be counted as nothing.”662
It disposes us to consider the benefactions of God, all the graces
that come to us from our Lord, through His passion, His death, the
Eucharist. In the light of this consideration, the soul discovers its
ingratitude and sincerely begs pardon for it.

In this way the soul is led to the abnegation of all
self-will. Consequently in Book III, chapter 13, the Lord is made to
say: “Learn to break thy own will and to yield thyself up to
all subjections. Kindle wrath against thyself, suffer not the
swelling of pride to live in thee; but show thyself so submissive and
little that all may trample on thee, and tread thee under their feet
as the dirt of the streets. . . . But Mine eye hath spared thee,
because thy soul was precious in My sight; that thou mightest know My
love, and mightest always live thankful for My favors.”
Abnegation thus understood puts self-love to death; it is a
disappropriation by which the soul ceases to belong to itself that it
may belong to God, ceases to seek tself that it may tend continually
toward Him. The same doctrine is expressed in Book III, chapter 21.
We read also in chapter 37 of the same book: “Forsake thyself,
resign thyself, and thou shalt enjoy a great inward peace.”

Purity of heart and simplicity of intention wholly
directed toward God prepare the soul to receive the special grace of
infused contemplation.663
This grace makes the soul understand the profound meaning of these
words: “ Whoever findeth Jesus findeth a good treasure, a good
above every good.”664

From this contemplation are born the trusting
abandonment and union, expressed in the following petition: “Thou
dost will, O my God, that I receive Thee and unite myself to Thee in
love. Wherefore, I beseech Thy clemency, and I beg of Thee to give me
a special grace, that I may be wholly dissolved in Thee, and overflow
with Thy love, and no more concern myself about seeking any other
consolation.”665
With this in mind, one may grasp the depths of the splendid chapter 5
of Book III on the marvelous effects of divine love which “carrieth
the burden without being burdened, and maketh all else that is bitter
sweet and savory. The noble love of Jesus impelleth us to do great
things, and exciteth us always to desire that which is the more
perfect. . . . Nothing is sweeter than love, nothing stronger,
nothing higher, nothing wider, nothing more pleasant, nothing fuller
or better in heaven or in earth: for love is born of God, and it
cannot rest but in God.”

In a mortified soul which no longer seeks itself,
such is the fruit of the contemplation of the sovereign Good: that
union with God which is truly the normal prelude of the union of
eternity.

The passages we have quoted clearly demonstrate the
truth of the statement made at the beginning of this chapter: namely,
that The Imitation is not only an ascetical but also a
mystical book; it leads to the practice of the virtues in view of the
infused contemplation of the goodness of God and of union with Him.
Manifestly addressed to all interior souls, The Imitation is,
in fact, read by all of them. In other words, the true mysticism of
which it speaks is accessible to all, if they are willing to follow
the way of humility, abnegation, persevering prayer, and docility to
the Holy Ghost.

This is one of the strongest reasons in favor of the
doctrine we set forth in this work on the normal prelude of eternal
life.

Chapter 28: Contemplative Prayer

THE PASSAGE FROM ACQUIRED
PRAYER TO INITIAL INFUSED PRAYER

Our treatment of docility to the Holy Ghost, of the
infinite value of the Mass, of the Communion of proficients, and of
the mysticism of The Imitation, prepares us to consider what should
be the contemplative prayer of those who advance in the illuminative
way.

We treated in Volume I666
of the mental prayer of beginners, of its progressive simplification,
and of perseverance in this interior prayer. In our discussion of the
prayer of proficients we shall see, first of all, how St. Francis de
Sales sums up the traditional teaching on this point, using the
principles of St. Thomas to illuminate his doctrine. Next, we shall
see what constitutes the beginning of contemplative prayer in the
opinion of St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, which will enable us
to get some idea of how it should develop.

THE PASSAGE FROM
MEDITATION TO CONTEMPLATION ACCORDING TO THE TRADITIONAL TEACHING
EXPRESSED BY ST. FRANCIS DE SALES

The holy Bishop of Geneva sets forth his teaching on
this subject in hisTreatise on the Love of God.667
In the Introduction to a Devout Life,668
he had already described meditation, which is an act of the
understanding by which it makes one or more considerations in order
to excite our affections for God and divine things. The mind
meditates on a subject with the aid of the imagination and of
discourse or reasoning. Resolutions must be made after the
affections, and the meditation should end with thanksgiving, with an
offering of self, and a petition to God to grant us His grace that we
may put into practice the resolutions He has inspired in us.

But if one perseveres in this way, meditation becomes
simplified affective prayer in which the various acts tend to fuse
into a single act. Thus the faithful soul is gradually raised to
contemplation, which is “a loving, simple, and fixed attention
of the mind on divine things.”669
At this moment the life of the soul is entirely simple and
concentrated on the object that it loves; the soul looks with a
simple gaze at a perfection of God, especially at His goodness, or
the radiation of it in some divine work.670

Consequently, says St. Francis de Sales, “prayer
is called meditation until it has produced the honey of devotion;
after that it changes into contemplation. . . . Thus, as bees draw
nectar from the flowers, we meditate to gather the love of God, but,
having gathered it, we contemplate God and are attentive to His
goodness because of the sweetness that love makes us find in it.”671
In other words, meditation prepares for the act of love of God,
whereas contemplation follows it.

From this fact springs a second difference:
“Meditation considers in minute detail and, as it were, item by
item the objects that are suitable to excite our love; but
contemplation gazes with simplicity and concentration on the object
that it loves.”672
We no longer linger over one detail or another; we attain to a
general view which dwells on God with admiration and love, as the
gaze of an artist rests on nature, or that of a child on his mother’s
features.

A third difference springs from the two preceding:
whereas meditation is not made without effort, “contemplation
is made with pleasure, in that it presupposes that one has found God
and His holy love.”673
Nevertheless contemplation has its hours of dark night in which the
soul, now eager for God, keenly feels His absence by reason of the
ardent desire it has to possess Him, a desire in which it unites
itself in trial to His good pleasure.674

St. Francis de Sales concludes: “Holy
contemplation being the end and the purpose to which all spiritual
exercises tend, they are all reduced to it, and those who practice
them are called contemplatives.”675
However, on the subject of the loving recollection of the soul in
contemplation, the holy doctor adds: “We do not make this
recollection by choice, inasmuch as it is not in our power to have it
whenever we wish; it does not depend on our care; but God produces it
in us when it pleases Him by His most holy grace.”676

THE PRINCIPLES OF THIS
TRADITIONAL TEACHING ACCORDING TO ST. THOMAS

The teaching of St. Francis de Sales, which we have
just quoted, springs from the very notion of supernatural
contemplation such as we find it in the works of St. Thomas.

St. Thomas shows in the Summa677
that contemplation is an act of the intellect superior to reasoning,
a simple view of the truth;678
and, when it is a question not of philosophical contemplation, but of
that contemplation which the saints speak of, it springs from love,
not only from the love of the knowledge habitual to philosophers, but
from the love of God, from charity.679
It proceeds consequently from living faith enlightened by the gifts
of the Holy Ghost, especially by those of understanding and wisdom,
which render faith penetrating and sweet.680
Supernatural contemplation thus conceived supposes the special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which His gifts dispose us to receive
with promptness and docility,681
as the wide-spread sails on a boat receive the impulsion of a
favorable wind; then the boat advances more easily than by the labor
of the rowers, a symbol of discursive meditation united to the
practice of the virtues. From this point of view, contemplation,
because of the special inspiration which it supposes, deserves to be
called, not acquired but infused, although at the beginning it may
quite frequently be prepared for by reading, affective meditation,
and the prayer of petition.682
The soul thus actively prepares itself to receive the special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which will at times be strong enough
so that discursive meditation will no longer be necessary, as when a
favorable wind is strong enough to make the boat advance, the work of
the rowers may cease.

This special inspiration of the Holy Ghost given to
make us taste the mysteries of faith, uses the connaturality or
sympathy with divine things that is rooted in charity.683
This special inspiration gives rise in us to an act of infused love
and of living, penetrating, and sweet faith, which shows us how
revealed mysteries, although still obscure, wonderfully correspond to
our deepest and loftiest aspirations. These acts of love and of
penetrating and sweet faith are said to be infused, not only because
they proceed from infused virtues, in this case from the theological
virtues, but because they suppose a special inspiration of the Holy
Ghost, and because we cannot move ourselves to them with the help of
common actual grace. In this case God moves us, not by inclining us
to deliberate, but to acts above all discursive deliberation.684
For example, on reading the Gospel of the day at Mass, some
expression that we have read many times is illuminated and captivates
us, such as the words of Jesus to the Samaritan woman: “If thou
didst know the gift of God!”685
In like manner a preacher vividly experiences this illumination we
are speaking of when at first he feels deeply his powerlessness to
preach the Passion in a fitting manner on Good Friday, and then
receives the animating breath which vivifies his thought, his will
and his feelings, that he may do good to souls.

At times contemplation rises toward God by a straight
movement from a sensible fact, for example, from a parable such as
that of the prodigal son, to the wonderful vision of the divine
mercy.686
At other times contemplation rises by an oblique movement, for
example, from the mysteries of salvation, from those of the childhood
of our Savior and of His passion, to the living and profound thought
of eternal life.

Lastly, there is occasionally contemplation, called
circular, of the infinite goodness of God which radiates on all
things, on all the mysteries of salvation. This prayer is a very
simple, most loving gaze, which reminds one of the circular flight of
the eagle high up in the air, hovering as it gazes at the sun and its
radiation over the horizon.687

These principles thus formulated by St. Thomas
illumine the traditional teaching on contemplative prayer which we
found expressed in the works of St. Francis de Sales. This same
teaching appears also in a concrete and experiential form in the
writings of St. Teresa.

THE ACQUIRED PRAYER OF
RECOLLECTION AND PASSIVE RECOLLECTION ACCORDING TO ST. TERESA

The passage from acquired to infused prayer is
illumined in the light of what St. Teresa wrote about the last of the
acquired prayers which she calls “the acquired prayer of
recollection,”688
and about initial infused prayer, which she calls “supernatural
or passive recollection.”689

The saint describes the last or the highest of the
acquired prayers as follows:

It is called (active) “recollection,”
because by its means the soul collects together all the faculties
and enters within itself690
to be with God. The divine Master thus comes more speedily than He
otherwise would to teach it and to grant the prayer of quiet. For,
being retired within itself, the spirit can meditate on the Passion
and can there picture in its thoughts the Son, and can offer Him to
the Father without tiring the mind by journeying to find Him on Mount
Calvary, or in the garden, or at the column.

Those who are able thus to enclose themselves within
the little heaven of their soul where dwells the Creator of both
heaven and earth, and who can accustom themselves not to look at
anything nor to remain in any place which would preoccupy their
exterior senses, may feel sure that they are traveling by an
excellent way, and that they will certainly attain to drink of the
water from the fountain, for they will journey far in a short time.
They resemble a man who goes by sea, and who, if the weather is
favorable, gets in a few days to the end of a voyage which would have
taken far longer by land. These souls may be said to have already put
out to sea, and though they have not quite lost sight of land, still
they do their best to get away from it by recollecting their
faculties.

If this
recollection is genuine it is easily discerned, for it produces a
certain effect that I cannot describe, but which will be recognized
by those who know it from personal experience. The soul seems to rise
from play—for it sees that earthly things are but toys—and
therefore mounts to higher things. Like one who retires into a strong
fortress to be out of danger, it withdraws the senses from outward
things, so thoroughly despising them that involuntarily the eyes
close so as to veil from the sight what is visible, in order that the
eyes of the soul may see more clearly. Those who practice this prayer
almost always keep their eyes shut during it. This is an excellent
custom for many reasons. . . . The soul appears to gather strength
and to dominate itself at the expense of the body. . . . By
persevering in the habit [of recollecting itself] for several days,
and by controlling ourselves, the benefits that result will become
clear. We shall find that when we begin to pray the bees (symbol of
the different faculties) will return to the hive and enter it to make
the honey without any effort on our part, for our Lord is pleased to
reward the soul and the will by this empire over the powers in return
for the time spent in restraining them. Thus the mind only requires
to make them a sign that it wishes to be recollected, and the senses
will immediately obey us and retire within themselves. . . . When the
will recalls them they return more quickly, until after they have
re-entered a number of times, our Lord is pleased that they should
settle entirely in perfect contemplation.691

These last words refer to infused prayer, prepared
for by active prayer or the acquired prayer of recollection, just
described and also called simplified affective prayer.692
The very slow and loving meditation on some of the petitions of the
Our Father is a good preparation for it.693
Thus acquired prayer prepares the soul for infused prayer.694

St. Teresa describes initial infused prayer, that of
supernatural or passive recollection, which precedes the prayer of
quiet, as follows:

This is a kind of recollection which, I believe,
issupernatural (like the prayer of quiet). There is no
occasion to retire nor to shut the eyes, nor does it depend on
anything exterior; involuntarily the eyes suddenly close and solitude
is found. Without any labor of one’s own, the temple of
which I spoke is reared for the soul in which to pray; the senses and
exterior surroundings appear to lose their hold, while the spirit
gradually regains its lost sovereignty. . . .

But do not fancy you can gain it [this recollection]
by thinking of God dwelling within you, or by imagining Him as
present in your soul. . . . By the divine assistance everyone can
practice it, but what I mean is quite a different thing.
Sometimes, before they have begun to think of God, . . . the soul
is keenly conscious of a delicious sense of recollection. . . .
Here it is not in our power to retire into ourselves, unless God
gives us the grace. In my opinion, His Majesty only bestows this
favor on those who have renounced the world. . . . He thus specially
calls them to devote themselves to spiritual things; if they allow
Him power to act freely, He will bestow still greater graces on those
whom He thus begins calling to a higher life.695

The saint adds: “Unless His Majesty has begun
to suspend our faculties, I cannot understand how we are to stop
thinking, without doing ourselves more harm than good,”696
for then we would remain in idleness or the somnolence of the
quietists.

“The supernatural recollection” which St.
Teresa describes in the preceding passages is clearly a mystical
prayer, the beginning of infused contemplation, for which simplified
affective meditation prepares the soul.697

What we have just said about the beginning of infused
contemplation according to the teaching of St. Francis de Sales and
St. Teresa conforms perfectly to what St. John of the Cross teaches
when, in The Dark Night,698
he treats of the night of the senses, or the passive purification of
the sensible faculties, which in his opinion marks, as we have seen,699
the transition from the purgative to the illuminative way. In The
Dark Night he says expressly: “The night of sense is common,
and the lot of many: these are the beginners.”700
And he adds: “The soul began to set out on the way of the
spirit, the way of proficients, which is also called the illuminative
way, or the way of infused contemplation, wherein God Himself teaches
and refreshes the soul without meditation or any active efforts that
itself may deliberately make.”701
The work of the virtues should certainly continue at times even to
heroic acts, but prayer becomes increasingly simplified, and the soul
ought especially to be docile to the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

St. John of the Cross agrees perfectly with St.
Thomas when he writes: “Contemplation is the science of love,
which is an infused loving knowledge of God.”702
“This dark contemplation is called secret, because it is, as I
have said before, the mystical theology which theologians call secret
wisdom, and which according to St. Thomas703
is infused into the soul more especially by love. This happens in a
secret hidden way. . . . The faculties of the soul cannot acquire it,
it being the Holy Ghost who infuses it into the soul.”704
It is the eminent exercise of the theological virtues and of the
gifts which accompany them. If this infused and loving contemplation
lasts for a certain time, it is called a state of prayer, a passive
state or at least one that is more passive than active, for we cannot
produce it, but only prepare ourselves for it. This teaching is
identical with that of The Imitation and thus lends additional
confirmation to the statement in The Imitationquoted in the
preceding chapter: “There are found so few contemplative
persons, because there are few that know how to sequester themselves
entirely from perishable creatures.”705
In other words, the infused contemplation of revealed mysteries,
which proceeds from living faith illumined by the gifts of the Holy
Ghost, is in the normal way of sanctity or of heaven, provided we
persevere in prayer, carry our cross daily in a supernatural manner,
and are docile to the Holy Ghost. Then living faith becomes during
prayer penetrating and often sweet, in such a way that we can live
profoundly by the revealed mysteries of the redemptive Incarnation,
the Mass, the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity in our souls; we can
live profoundly by them and taste them; this is the normal prelude of
the life of heaven.

Chapter 29: The Errors of the Quietists on Contemplation and Pure
love

We find in the condemnation of several errors a
confirmation of the traditional doctrine on initial infused prayer
which we have just set forth. We shall consider the errors of
quietism, then those of semi-quietism.

THE QUIETISM OF MOLINOS

The propositions of Molinos, which were condemned in
1687,706
show that quietism deviates from the traditional doctrine to the
point of becoming a caricature of Catholic mysticism, which it
perverts in its most fundamental principles.

According to Molinos, man should annihilate his
faculties, for the desire to act offends God, who wishes to be the
only one to act in us. Activity is the enemy of grace, vows to
accomplish certain acts are an obstacle to perfection. In refraining
from acting, the soul annihilates itself and returns to its
principle; then God reigns and lives in it. Such is the interior way,
in which the soul no longer produces acts of knowledge, or of love of
God, and no longer thinks of eternal life, or of the sufferings of
hell. It ought not to desire to know whether it is pleasing to God,
nor reflect on its acts, nor on its defects to be corrected; it
should not desire its own perfection, its salvation, nor ask God for
anything definite. It no longer needs to resist temptations, with
which it should no longer concern itself.707

In prayer, according to the quietists, man must
remain in obscure faith, in a repose in which he forgets every
distinct thought relative to the humanity of Christ, or even to the
divine perfections, to the Blessed Trinity. He must remain in this
repose without producing any act. As for the knowledge of obscure
faith, it is not an act produced by the creature, but a knowledge
coming from God alone; it is, said Molinos, an acquired contemplation
which is acquired by the cessation of our own operations.708

It is evident, therefore, that this acquired
contemplation, which Molinos advised for all, was a passivity
acquired at will by the cessation of every operation. Consequently he
attributed to the contemplation acquired in this manner what is true
only of infused contemplation, and with one stroke of the pen he
suppressed all asceticism and the practice of the virtues, considered
by tradition to be the real preparation for infused contemplation and
union with God.709
All spirituality was thus radically perverted.

According to these principles, Molinos maintained
that contemplation continues during sleep, that distaste for
spiritual things is good; he confounded voluntary spiritual sloth, or
acedia, with involuntary aridity, which is found in the passive
purifications of the senses and the spirit. He went so far as to say
that the use of the sacraments and the practice of good works are
indifferent matters, and that acquired contemplation leads to
impeccability, in which one need no longer resist temptations, even
when they lead to immodest acts.710

One of the initial errors of Spanish quietism was to
consider the prayer of quiet as acquired at will (by the suppression
of acts), whereas in reality it is infused, as St. Teresa shows in
the fourth mansion of The Interior Castle.711

In his Precis de theologie ascetique et mystique
(no. 1484), Father A. Tanquerey juxtaposes exactly the errors of
Molinos and Catholic doctrine. We have added several clarifying
statements to his outline:

The quietism of Molinos thus ended in manifestly
immoral consequences. It was taken up again in an attenuated form
without these consequences by Madame Guyon, who, having been widowed
while still young, rushed ardently into an imaginative and emotional
piety which she called the way of pure love, or the short road. She
won over to her ideas, first of all, Father Lacombe, a Barnabite,
then in a measure, Fenelon.712

SEMI-QUIETISM

The attenuated quietism of Fenelon,” which was
condemned in 1699,713
had to do with errors relative to pure love. The principal error
consisted in teaching that in the state of perfect contemplation the
soul enters a sort of complete annihilation, that it is in the
presence of God, entirely resigned to His holy will and indifferent
to its salvation or damnation.

This doctrine thus failed to recognize the obligation
of Christian hope; it forgot that the saints in their greatest trials
“against hope believed in hope,” according to the
expression of St. Paul.714
It also forgot that to sacrifice the desire of our salvation would be
to sacrifice charity itself, which leads us to wish to glorify God
eternally by the knowledge and love which the blessed enjoy in
heaven.

The divine precepts relative to hope and charity, far
from being mutually contradictory, are mutually strengthening. By
hope, we desire to possess God without subordinating Him to
ourselves;715
by charity, which vivifies hope instead of destroying it, we love God
for Himself, and in order to glorify Him eternally we desire our own
salvation and that of other souls. Thus zeal for the glory of God and
the salvation of souls is the ardor of one and the same love, whose
first object is God and whose second is ourselves and our neighbor.

Among the errors of semi-quietism the following are
also important: “There is a state of contemplation so sublime
and perfect that it becomes habitual, to such an extent that each
time the soul prays, its prayer is contemplative and not discursive.
When this state is reached, the soul need never more return to
meditation and methodical acts.” “The mystical saints
excluded the exercise of the virtues from the state of transformed
souls.”716

Fenelon, who submitted humbly to the condemnation,
was led into error especially by a falsified edition of the
Entretiens spirituels de saint Francois de Sales, published at
Lyons in 1628 by a certain Drobet. Bossuet, in the course of his
controversy with Fenelon, made a deep study of the questions relative
to prayer, and it is a known fact that in his opinion the “prayer
in faith and of the simple presence of God,” which in its
second phase is initial infused contemplation, is in the normal way
of sanctity.717

All the errors contained in the Maximes des
saints, which were condemned in 1699 in twenty-three
propositions,718
may be reduced, according to Bossuet, to the four following
propositions: (1) “There is in this life a habitual state
of pure love in which the desire for eternal salvation no longer
exists.(2) In the final trials of the interior life, a soul may
be persuaded by an invincible and deliberate conviction that it is
reprobated by God, and in this belief it may make the absolute
sacrificeof its eternal happiness.(3) In the state of pure love, the
soul isindifferent in regard to its own perfection and the practices
of virtue.(4) Contemplative souls lose, in certain states, the
distinct, sensible, and reflective view of Jesus Christ.”719

We italicized in these propositions what is
particularly erroneous. What is true is: (1) that in the perfect the
desire of beatitude is often inspired by charity and that there are
moments in which they do not think explicitly of their
salvation.(2) If some saints have had in the lower part of the soul
the impression of being reprobate, it was not a reflective persuasion
of the higher part, and if they made the sacrifice of their
salvation, it was in a conditional and not an absolute manner.(3)
Even in the highest states of perfection, the saints recommend
concern about progress and the fundamental virtues.(4)
Even in the transforming union, many saints, like St. Teresa, have
had visions of our Savior’s humanity; what is true is
that in certain transitory moments the perfect soul, absorbed in the
con­templation of the Deity, does not think explicitly of it.

THE PROBLEM OF PURE LOVE

We treated the question of pure love at length in The
Love of God and the Cross of Jesus.720
We shall give here a brief summary of our teaching.

The problems of pure love may be stated as follows:
Will our love of God always be tainted by self-love? Is pure love
possible, and, if so, what is its relation to love of oneself, which
seems to be the basis of our natural tendencies?

The errors to be avoided are mutually contradictory;
the truth rises like a summit in the midst of these deviations and
above them. Under the pretext of pure love, the quietists went so far
as to require the absolute sacrifice of the desire of salvation or of
personal happiness,721
and they said that the saints make this sacrifice in the passive
purifications of the spirit. On the other hand, it is possible to
fall into a practical naturalism which disregards the spirit of
sacrifice and believes that without it one can succeed in loving God
perfectly and more than oneself. Evidently the truth is above these
two opposing deviations.

The saints have often described ardent love of God,
insisting on its disinterestedness and its holy follies.722
Thus St. Paul writes: “For I wished myself to be an anathema
from Christ, for my brethren.”723
St. Thomas explains this passage as follows: “He wished to be
deprived for a time of the divine fruition which pertains to love of
oneself, in order that God might be honored in his neighbor, which
pertains to the love of God.”724
But the same St. Paul says that in the greatest trials, man must,
like Abraham, “against hope believe in hope,”725
and therefore never renounce salvation; to do so, moreover, would be
to sacrifice charity itself or the desire to glorify God eternally.
The sacrifice of our happiness cannot, therefore, be absolute, but
only conditional and temporary; further, in the saints it is not a
permanent state, but a transport of love lasting some moments.726

The following difficulty remains to be solved. How is
the ardent, disinterested love of the saints reconciled with our
natural inclinations, in particular with love of oneself? St. Thomas727
answers this difficulty by pointing out that by nature we are
inclined to love God, the Author and Preserver of our nature, more
than ourselves, as in an organism the part naturally loves the whole
more than itself, the hand sacrificing itself to save the body.
Otherwise the natural inclination which comes from God, the Author of
nature, would not be good, and grace, charity, not only would not
perfect it, but would destroy it.728

The natural inclination to love God, the Author of
our nature, was attenuated by original sin729
and by our personal sins, the results of which must be mortified; but
it subsists in the depths of our will, and charity elevates this
tendency, making us love God, the Author of grace, more than
ourselves. Consequently in loving rightly the superior part of
ourselves, we love our Creator still more, and to cease to will our
own perfection would be to turn away from God.730
This is what the quietists did not understand when they asked, in the
midst of the great passive purifications, not hope against all hope,731
but the absolute sacrifice of beatitude.732
This would have constituted at the same time the sacrifice of charity
or the desire to glorify God eternally.

They did not understand that by hope we desire God
for ourselves, not subordinating Him to ourselves, as a fruit is
inferior to us, but subordinating ourselves to Him: “By hope we
desire God for ourselves, not because of ourselves,”733
for the ultimate end of the act of hope is God Himself. Further, by
charity we love God in a superior manner, formally for Himself, and
we then desire to possess Him in order to glorify Him eternally.

Thus perfect charity, far from destroying hope,
vivifies it and renders it increasingly meritorious. One thus avoids
the two contrary errors of quietism and of naturalism opposed to the
spirit of sacrifice; and, during the passive purifications, the love
of God and neighbor is increasingly purified of all inordinate
self-love or of all self-seeking. Finally, ardent love, under the
form of zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls, is
victorious over all egoism, as we see in the lives of great saints.734

IN WHAT THE PRACTICE OF
PURE LOVE CONSISTS

The practice of pure love consists chiefly in
abandonment to Providence and to the divine will of good pleasure.
This act of abandonment supposes faith and hope, and in it there is a
love of God that is daily more pure.

The quietists were, therefore, mistaken in excluding
hope from the most perfect state; it should be only subordinated to
charity, vivified by it, and finally it should become heroic hope
“against hope” as we see in the lives of the saints.

The quietists also erred in excluding from the state
of perfection attention to the practice of the virtues and positive
resistance to temptations. They failed to consider as they should
that abandonment to the divine will of good pleasure should be
accompanied by conformity to the divine will signified by the
precepts, the counsels (at least the spirit of the counsels), and
events.735
It is constant fidelity to the divine will signified from moment to
moment that enables man to abandon himself without presumption, with
confidence and love, to God’s will of good pleasure, on which
the future depends. The signified will is consequently the domain of
obedience, and the will of good pleasure that of abandonment. Thus
balance is kept above the slothful quiet of the quietists and the
fruitless agitation of those who rely on themselves and have no
profound prayer.

On this subject St. Francis de Sales,736
Bossuet,737
Father Piny,738
and Father de Caussade739
may be read with profit. We have treated this question at greater
length elsewhere;740
here we shall give what is essential.

The act of pure love may be considered in three ways:
(1) as an exceptional and very rare act;(2) as a continuous
exercise;(3) as an ordinary act accessible to all Christians.

1. The exceptional and very rare act of pure love is
a close and lofty union with God, found only in already purified
souls which, under a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost and
without any return on self, no longer actually and explicitly think
of their own beatitude. It was in an act of this kind that St. Paul,
in excessu mentis, desired to be deprived for a time of the
joy of possessing God that, by this sacrifice, he might obtain the
conversion of his brethren.741

2. The continual exercise of the act of pure love was
proposed by the quietists as the state of perfection. In reality,
this act exists with continuity only in heaven.

3. The ordinary act of pure love accessible to all
Christians is the act of charity by which one loves God with
appreciative love, above all, because He is infinitely good and
better than all His gifts, while tending to love Him with intensive
love, more than all, which will be realized in heaven.742
This act corresponds to the supreme precept of love, a precept that
makes it the duty of all to tend to perfect charity.743

Chapter 30: The Degrees of Contemplative Prayer in Proficients

We have seen the nature of contemplative prayer and
the difference between the last acquired prayer and initial infused
prayer. We shall now consider the various degrees of infused prayer
in proficients. These degrees are set forth in the works of St.
Teresa744
and in those of St. Francis de Sales.745
We shall give the essential part of their teaching and then apply
this doctrine to fervent Communion.

THE PROGRESS OF PRAYER
AND THE VIRTUES

The degrees of contemplative prayer are chiefly those
of the growing intensity of living faith, of charity, and of the
gifts of the Holy Ghost which correspond to them. This growing
intensity of union with God manifests itself in a way by the
progressive extension of this state to the different faculties of the
soul, which are gradually captivated by God, so that little by little
the distractions which come from an agitated and intractable
imagination cease. Besides, and this point is especially important,
the virtues grow as a rule with the progress of prayer.

St. Teresa746
makes this truth clear by comparing the degrees of prayer to four
ways of watering a garden. First, water may be drawn from a well by
main force;747
this is the figure of discursive meditation, which contributes to the
growth of the virtues. The second way of watering consists in drawing
up the water with a waterwheel, called anoria; this is the
symbol of the prayer of quiet, which is prepared by work that
disposes the soul to it. At this time the flowers of the virtues are
about to appear.748

A third way of watering consists in irrigating the
garden with running water from a river; the virtues draw far more
vigor from this prayer than from the preceding one, and their flowers
bloom.749

Lastly, the fourth water, which is rain, symbolizes
the prayer of union given by God without human labor. “The soul
draws from this prayer much more abundant fruits, its humility
increases. It is here that are born heroic promises and resolutions,
burning desires, horror of the world (of its spirit), the clear view
of vanity.”750

Consequently Pius X, in his letter (March 7, 1914) on
St. Teresa’s doctrine, says: “The degrees of prayer
enumerated by her are so many superior ascents toward the summit of
Christian perfection.”751

St. John of the Cross speaks in similar terms. He
shows in particular that in the night of the senses, or passive
purification of the sensibility, there is in the midst of aridity an
initial infused contemplation, accompanied by an ardent desire for
God.752
It is an arid quiet, often spoken of by St. Jane de Chantal, which
prepares the soul for the consoled quiet described by St. Teresa in
the fourth mansion.

THE PRAYER OF QUIET

In sweet quiet, which corresponds to the second way
of watering, that is, with the pump, “the will alone is
captivated”753
by the living light that manifests the sweet presence of God in us
and His goodness. At this moment the gift of piety, which is in the
will itself, disposes it to an entirely filial affection toward God.
This state has been compared to that of a little child who relishes
the milk given it. Or better, it is like the springing up of the
living water which Jesus spoke of to the Samaritan woman. “The
other fountain . . . receives the water from the source itself, which
signifies God . . . We experience the greatest peace, calm, and
sweetness in the inmost depths of our being. . . . The whole physical
part of our nature shares in this delight and sweetness. . . . They
[the celestial waters] appear to dilate and enlarge us internally,
and benefit us in an inexplicable manner, nor does even the soul
itself understand what it receives.”754

However, in this state, the intellect, the memory,
and the imagination are not yet captivated by the divine action.
Sometimes they are the auxiliaries of the will and are occupied in
its service; at other times their cooperation serves only to trouble
it. Then, says St. Teresa, the will should “take no more notice
of the understanding (or imagination) than it would of an idiot.”755

This sweet quiet, called also the prayer of divine
tastes or of silence, is, moreover, often interrupted by the
aridities and trials of the night of the senses,756
by temptations which oblige the soul to a salutary reaction. The
effects of the prayer of quiet are greater virtue, especially greater
love of God and ineffable peace, at least in the higher part of the
soul.757

The prayer of quiet described by St. Teresa in the
fourth mansion has three distinct phases: (1) passive recollection,
which is a sweet and loving absorption of the will in God by a
special grace;(2) quiet, properly so called, in which the will is
captivated by God, whether it remains silent or prays with a sort of
spiritual transport;(3) the sleep of the powers, when, the will
remaining captive, the understanding ceases to discourse and is
itself seized by God, although the imagination and the memory
continue to be disturbed.758

The conduct to be observed in the prayer of quiet is
that of humble abandonment in the hands of God. No effort should be
made to place oneself in this state, which can come only from a
special grace of the Holy Ghost, who at times inclines the soul to a
loving silence, at others to affections which gush forth as from a
spring. If the understanding and imagination wander, the soul must
not be disturbed about it, or go in search of them; the will should
remain and enjoy the favor it receives, like a wise bee in the depths
of its retreat.759

THE PRAYER OF SIMPLE
UNION

If the soul is faithful not only in attentively
accomplishing all its daily duties, but in listening with docility to
the inspirations of the Holy Ghost, who becomes more exacting in
proportion as He gives more, what happens as a rule? The soul is then
raised to a higher degree, called “simple union.” The
action of God at this time becomes strong enough to absorb completely
the interior faculties of the soul; God is the object of all its
activity, which no longer wanders abroad. Not only the will is
captivated by God, but also the thoughts and the memory; in addition,
the soul has, as it were, the certitude of the divine presence. The
imagination is no longer restless, but calmed; at times it is as if
asleep, in order to allow the higher faculties of the intellect and
will to be united to God. The special grace given by the Holy Ghost
is then like running water coming from a river.

It even happens that all the soul’s activity
occurs in its higher, part, to such an extent that there is
suspension of the exercise of the exterior senses, that is, a
beginning of ecstasy, or ecstasy properly so called. If the
mathematician who is absorbed in his research no longer hears what is
said to him, with even greater reason is this true of him who is thus
strongly drawn by God.

The soul then receives the salutary water that
refreshes and purifies it like rain falling from heaven. According to
St. Teresa, God “will leave us no share in them [His wondrous
works] except complete conformity of our wills to His.”760
“How beautiful is the soul after having been immersed in God’s
grandeur and united closely to Him for but a short time! Indeed, I do
not think it is ever as long as half an hour.”761

St. Teresa points out also that the prayer of union
is quite often incomplete, without suspension of the imagination and
the memory, which sometimes wage a veritable war on the intellect.762
It is of this incomplete mystical union that St. Teresa is speaking
in The Interior Castle when she says: “Is it necessary,
in order to attain to his kind of divine union, for the powers of the
soul to be suspended? No; God has many ways of enriching the soul and
bringing it to these mansions besides what might be called a ‘short
cut.’ “763

The effects of the prayer of union are most
sanctifying; there is something like a transformation of the soul
similar to the metamorphosis of the silkworm into a butterfly. The
soul feels great contrition for its sins; it experiences an ardent
zeal to make God known and loved and to serve Him, suffers greatly at
the sight of the loss of sinners, glimpses what the sufferings of our
Lord must have been. Then the heroic practice of the virtues really
begins, especially perfect submission to the will of God and great
love for one’s neighbor.764
The martyrs have at times had this prayer in the midst of their
torments.765

These prayers of sweet quiet and of simple union
correspond to those which, in the opinion of St. John of the Cross,
are found between the passive purification of the senses and that of
the spirit.766
St. Teresa, in the first chapter of the sixth mansion, speaks clearly
of the purification of the spirit, as we shall see later on when we
treat of arid union and of ecstatic union which precede the
transforming union.767

CONTEMPLATIVE PRAYER AND
FERVENT COMMUNION

Contemplative prayer, which we have just discussed,
enables us to glimpse the depths of the Sacrifice of the Mass and of
Communion, in which the Word of God made flesh gives Himself to us to
be the food of our souls and to incorporate us more intimately in
Himself, while quickening us.

St. Thomas Aquinas must have had a high degree of
contemplative prayer when he composed the Office and the Mass for the
feast of Corpus Christi. We shall note here some of its principal
parts.

In Vespers, the responsory recalls the parable of the
guests. Several, preoccupied with their own affairs or pleasures,
declined to come; then the Lord invited the poor and at the Holy
Table gave Himself to them as food. This is the loftiest
interpretation of the parable of the guests.768

In the antiphon of the Magnificat at First Vespers,
we read: “How sweet is Thy spirit, O Lord, who, to show Thy
tenderness to Thy children, hast given them a most sweet bread from
heaven; Thou dost fill the hungry with good things and sendest the
rich, who have not this hunger, away empty.”

The Introit of the Mass recalls the words of the
Psalmist: “He fed them with the fat of wheat”;769
this wheat is Himself, for the bread has been changed into the
substance of His body, which suffered for us on the cross. When we
receive it, there is a spiritual and vivifying contact, which should
daily become more intimate, between our poor soul and the holy soul
of the Word made flesh, for He Himself said: “He that eateth My
flesh and drinketh My blood abideth in Me, and I in him.”770

Thou, who
feedest us below! Source of all we have or know! Grant that
with Thy saints above,Sitting at the feast of love, We may
see Thee face to face. Amen. Alleluia.

In our pilgrimage toward eternity, we are nourished
by the Eucharist, like the prophet Elias who, when obliged to walk
even to Mount Horeb, was sustained by a loaf of bread brought to him
by an angel.771

The hymn for Matins of this feast of the Blessed
Sacrament ends in the contemplation of infinite riches inclining
toward extreme poverty:

We receive this help especially during severe trials
or persecutions, when faced with the enemy’s attacks. At such
times we more particularly need to live by penetrating and living
faith and by the Contemplation of the Eucharistic mystery, and to
convince ourselves in fervent Communion of the fact that God alone is
great, that He alone is of Himself, that the strongest and most
formidable creatures are as nothing in comparison with Him and can do
no harm without His permission. Not a hair of our heads will perish
unless He has willed or permitted it, says the Gospel.772
We must convince ourselves in the living light of contemplation that
when we say, “God permits evil only for a higher good,”
we are uttering not simply a sacred formula, but a truth replete with
life. We must firmly and deeply believe that the higher good which
God is beginning to realize in us in the midst of our struggles is an
eternal good that will not pass away. We need to believe that
profound Christian life is eternal life begun. We must nourish
ourselves with these divine truths and, better still, we must nourish
ourselves with Christ Himself who is divine subsistent Truth. We need
to be vivified by Him, defended by Him, and to receive from Him that
living flame of charity which will make us always aspire higher, even
to the end of our journey. Such are in every faithful interior soul
the fruits of mental prayer and fervent Communion.

What the great spiritual writers tell us about
contemplative prayer is within the reach of the interior soul if it
is willing to follow the way of humility and abnegation, and if it
daily grasps a little better the following verse of the Magnificat:
“He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted
the humble.”

What the masters of the life of prayer tell us is not
beyond attainment by the faithful soul which believes with lively
faith that in baptism it received the seed of eternal life, and which
feels the need of being daily more deeply penetrated by the infinite
value of the Mass. Then the soul understands how important it is to
receive from God all that, in His infinite mercy, He wishes to give
souls that He may draw them to Himself and make them share eternally
in His inner life, in His eternal beatitude, as the prologue of St.
John’s Gospel, read daily at Mass, reminds us: “But as
many as received Him, He gave them power to be made the sons of God.”
Those who are “born of God,” and not only of the flesh
and of the will of man, should live especially by the divine life
which, once begun in us, ought not to end. This is why Christ Himself
says to us: “If any man thirst, let him come to Me, and drink.
. . . Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water,”773
“a fountain of water, springing up into life everlasting.”774

Chapter 31: Questions Relative to Infused Contemplation

Since we have discussed775
docility to the Holy Ghost, the mysticism ofThe Imitation,
which is accessible to all, contemplative prayer in its beginnings
and its degrees in proficients, we are prepared to examine the
principal problem confronting us today about infused contemplation
and to see the points on which there is agreement among many
theologians who follow at the same time the principles formulated by
St. Thomas and the doctrine of St. John of the Cross.

THE PRINCIPAL PROBLEM

The principal question we are going to examine bears
on the intimate nature of infused contemplation. There is agreement
in saying that contemplation in general, such as may exist in a
philosopher, for example, in Plato and Aristotle, is a simple,
intellectual view of the truth, superior to reasoning, as St. Thomas
explains.776

An example of this contemplation is the knowledge
that at the summit of changing beings there exists being itself,
absolutely simple and immutable, principle and end of all things; it
is wisdom itself, goodness, and love. All the proofs for the
existence of God converge toward this culminating point, and reason
by its powers alone, with the natural help of God, can rise to this
philosophical contemplation.

But when it is a question of Christian contemplation
based on divine revelation received through faith, what do the great
spiritual writers understand by the word “contemplation,”
especially when they distinguish it from “meditation”?
Does Christian meditation also bear on the truths of faith and what
flows from them? How does contemplation differ from it?

The great spiritual writers, who are authoritative in
the matter agree in saying with St. John of the Cross: “Contemplation
is the science of love, which is an infused loving knowledge of
God,”777
a knowledge that is not always absorbing, that is sometimes
accompanied by distractions, and that may exist with the aridity of
the passive purifications, or nights of the senses and spirit.

We have shown elsewhere778
that St. Teresa,779
St. Francis de Sales780,
and St. Jane de Chantal781
agree perfectly on this point with St. John of the Cross when they
indicate the differences between discursive and affective meditation
which becomes increasingly simple and contemplation properly so
called. They also agree in stating, in opposition to the quietists,
that one must not leave meditation before receiving this infused and
loving knowledge of God, for in so doing there would result “more
harm than good,” as St. Teresa points out.782

Since such is indeed the meaning of the word
“contemplation” in the writings of the great spiritual
authors, what must be understood by “acquired contemplation,”
spoken of by a number of authors, specially since the seventeenth
century? Is acquired contemplation, with the union with God which
results from it, the summit of the normal development of the interior
life, or is it in reality only a disposition to receive the grace of
the infused contemplation of the mysteries of faith, which would
consequently be in the normal way of sanctity and clearly
distinguished from essentially extraordinary graces like revelations,
visions, the stigmata, and so on? In substance this is the chief
problem confronting us on this subject. To solve it, we must examine
more closely the definitions that are generally admitted.

ACCEPTED DEFINITIONS

Contemplation in general, we have said, is a simple,
intellectual view of the truth, above reasoning and accompanied by
admiration.

Acquired contemplation is generally defined by those
who admit its existence at the end of meditation as a simple and
loving knowledge of God and of His works, which is the fruit of our
personal activity aided by grace. It is commonly agreed that the
theologian possesses the contemplation called “acquired”
at the end of his research in the synthetic view which he reaches.
This is also the case with the preacher who sees his whole sermon in
one central thought, and in the faithful who listen attentively to
this sermon, admire its unity and, as a result, taste the great truth
of faith which they see in its radiation.

In these cases there is a certain contemplation that
proceeds from faith united to charity and from a more or less latent
influence of the gifts of understanding, wisdom, and knowledge. But
this admiring knowledge would not exist if, for lack of a higher
inspiration, the human activity of the preacher had not carefully
arranged the ideas in such a way as to bring out their harmony. A
poorly prepared sermon would, in fact, produce the contrary result.

In the believer who himself meditates on a great
truth of faith, does the knowledge, which has often since the
seventeenth century been called “acquired contemplation,”
differ from simplified affective meditation? In agreement with the
testimony of the great spiritual writers quoted at the beginning of
this chapter, especially of St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa, and
St. Francis de Sales, we do not think so. It seems certain that, if
their teaching is accepted, what has often been described under the
name of acquired contemplation is only a variety of affective prayer,
in which the soul that has not yet received the grace of loving
infused knowledge, may, nevertheless, dwell for brief moments with a
simple, admiring gaze on the merciful goodness of God, the
interventions of Providence, the infinite value of our Savior’s
merits. Subsequently the soul returns to considerations and
affections.

What has been called “acquired contemplation”
thus corresponds to the acquired prayer of recollection, described by
St. Teresa in The Way of Perfection,783
a prayer that is entirely different from the “supernatural and
passive recollection” of which she speaks in chapter three of
the fourth mansion, where infused contemplation begins. St. John of
the Cross speaks in like manner in The Ascent of Mount Carmel,
where he deals with the passage from meditation to the state where
“God now communicates Himself to the soul, thus passive, as the
light of the sun to him whose eyes are open.”784

In contradistinction to acquired prayer, infused
contemplation is generally defined as a simple and loving knowledge
of God and His works, which is the fruit, not of human activity aided
by grace, but of a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost. For
example, in a poorly organized, lifeless sermon, which produces
scarcely anything but weariness in most of the listeners, the
preacher may, however, quote a saying of our Lord which profoundly
seizes a soul, captivates it, and absorbs it. In this case there is
in that soul a manifest act of infused contemplation, because it is
not in human power to produce this act at will like an ordinary act
of faith. Here it is a question of a particular, penetrating, and
often even sweet act of faith in which an experienced director
quickly perceives an influence of the gifts of understanding and
wisdom.

But, although such an act is not in our power, we can
dispose ourselves by humility, prayer, and recollection, to receive
the divine inspiration which produces it, and we can also follow this
inspiration with docility. According to St. Thomas, a special
operating grace leads us to act above discursive deliberation,
whereas cooperating grace inclines us to act at the end of this
deliberation.785

Thus the act of infused love is free and meritorious
because of the docility to the Holy Ghost which it contains, although
it is not properly speaking deliberate, in the sense that it is not
the fruit of a reasoned deliberation but of a superior inspiration.

This essentially infused contemplation and the
infused love that accompanies it begin with what St. Teresa calls the
prayer of passive recollection,786
and what St. John of the Cross calls the passive night of the senses;
in other words, at the beginning of the mystical life, properly so
called. Whence it follows that essentially mystical contemplation is
that which, in the eyes of an experienced director and in the sense
we have just indicated, is manifestly passive. If this infused
contemplation lasts and becomes frequent, one has the mystical state.

We believe, therefore, that we may draw the same
conclusion in regard to so-called acquired contemplation as we did in
a previous work:787
If by acquired contemplation we mean a prayer distinct from
simplified affective prayer, in which the intellect is totally
absorbed by its object and in which we place ourselves by the
suppression of all rational activity, we thereby not only create a
degree of prayer unknown to St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, but
we likewise oppose their explicit teaching. In fact, St. Teresa
repeatedly opposes the total suppression of discourse and the
movement of thought as long as one has not received infused
contemplation.788

Therefore the majority of theologians who, like those
of Carmel, while wishing to remain faithful to the teaching of St.
John of the Cross and of St. Teresa, have spoken of acquired
contemplation, understand by it what St. Teresa calls “the
acquired prayer of recollection”789
in which our intellectual activity is simplified, but not suppressed.
These theologians call this prayer contemplation because the act of
simple intellectual intuition is frequent in it, and discursive
meditation, on the other hand, is reduced. Consequently the substance
of the difficulty disappears, and the question becomes one of
terminology.790

Moreover, the Carmelite theologians who have admitted
the existence of acquired contemplation have rightly refused to
consider it the normal term of spiritual progress on earth. They hold
that in generous souls truly docile to the Holy Ghost, it is a
proximate disposition to receive infused contemplation normally.791

Different opinions have arisen about the time when
infused contemplation begins. Attentive reading of the third chapter
of St. Teresa’s fourth mansion, however, seems to indicate
clearly that contemplation begins with the prayer of “supernatural
recollection,” which we cannot obtain for ourselves by our own
activity, aided by grace. According to the terminology employed by
St. John of ‘the Cross, contemplation begins with the passive
night of the senses.792

The terminology may thus be fixed by the meaning
which the great spiritual writers have given to the unqualified term
“contemplation”; when they juxtapose it to meditation,
they are speaking of infused contemplation which begins in the
aridity of the night of the senses.793
For this reason St. John of the Cross, as we said at the beginning of
this chapter, defined contemplation as “an infused loving
knowledge of God.”794

INTIMATE NATURE OF
INFUSED CONTEMPLATION

According to the masters whom we have just quoted,
contemplation properly so called, or infused, is therefore a loving
knowledge of God which comes from a special inspiration of the Holy
Ghost to make us advance continually in the love of God. Not only
does it proceed from the infused virtues, in particular from faith
united to charity, but it is an infused act of knowledge accompanied
by infused love, which we could not make by ourselves with the help
of common actual grace. In certain souls it is love which dominates;
in others, light.

This special inspiration of the Holy Ghost is,
therefore, the principle of infused contemplation. We receive this
inspiration with docility through the gifts of the Holy Ghost,
especially through those of understanding and wisdom, which are, as a
result, in the just soul like sails which enable a vessel to receive
as it should the impulsion of a favorable breeze.795

St. John of the Cross himself links infused
contemplation to the gifts of the Holy Ghost when he writes in The
Dark Night: “This dark contemplation is called secret,
because it is, as I have said before, the mystical theology which
theologians call secret wisdom, and which, according to St. Thomas,
is infused into the soul more especially by love. This happens in a
secret, hidden way in which the natural operations of the
understanding and the other faculties have no share. And, therefore,
because the faculties of the soul cannot compass it, it being the
Holy Ghost who infuses it into the soul, in a way it knoweth not, as
the Bride saith in the Canticle, we call it secret.”796
Under this higher inspiration, living faith thus becomes increasingly
penetrating and sweet.

Therefore, between infused contemplation and
meditation, even when simplified, there is a difference not only of
degree, but of nature. Meditation, in fact, is in our power; it
proceeds from our personal activity aided by common actual grace and,
if there is in it a latent influence of the gifts of the Holy Ghost,
this influence is not what constitutes it. Analogically, when the
work of the rowers is facilitated by a favorable breeze, it is not
the breeze which is the principle of the toil.

Infused contemplation, on the contrary, is not in our
power; it proceeds not from our activity aided by grace, but from the
more or less manifest special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which is
indispensable here. Therefore, in this case, the difference is not
one of degree, but of nature, for the special inspiration is not only
a stronger actual grace; it is not only moving but regulating; it
contains a superior rule. Similarly, there is a specific difference
between even the infused virtues and the gifts of the Holy Ghost: the
infused virtues are by themselves principles of acts which we can
produce at will, whereas the gifts dispose us to receive with
docility the impulsion of the Holy Ghost for acts whose superhuman
mode, springing from a superior rule, specifically surpasses our
activity aided by common grace. As St. Thomas shows,797
there is in this case a specific difference, just as there is more
than a difference of degree between the work of the oars that makes a
boat advance and the impulsion of a favorable wind that makes rowing
unnecessary.798

In the ascetical life, before the passive
purification of the senses, in which infused contemplation begins,
the gifts of the Holy Ghost still intervene only weakly, and often
they are as if bound by some attachment to venial sin,799
like sails which have not yet been spread. Later, in the mystical
life, the intellectual gifts of understanding and wisdom, which are
both speculative and practical,800
appear in some under a clearly contemplative form and in others, as
in St. Vincent de Paul, under a form more directed toward action.

Lastly, it should be noted that the act of infused
contemplation proceeds from living faith as from its radical
principle, and from the gift of wisdom or that of understanding as
from its proximate principle actualized by the divine inspiration. It
is an act of penetrating and sweet faith; the superior inspiration
received through the gifts adds to this act of faith the precious
modalities of penetration and sweetness, which increase with the
touch of the Holy Ghost to the point of becoming a taste of eternal
life. Here we find, therefore, in a subordinated manner the formal
motive of infused faith (the authority of God revealing), that of
charity (the divine goodness sovereignly lovable for its own sake),
and that of the gifts mentioned (the illumination of the Holy Ghost,
which is regulating and inspiring). Consequently this simple act of
penetrating and sweet faith deserves to be called infused in order to
distinguish it from the act of faith which we commonly make at will,
without special inspiration, for example, in order to say the prayers
that we recite daily.

What is meant by the direct acts of contemplation?
They are acts which are in no way discursive, but which are made by a
simple gaze, above reasoning. And indeed they are at times so
peaceful that the soul does not, so to speak, perceive them; in that
case they are the contrary of reflective or perceived acts. With this
meaning, according to Cassian,801
St. Anthony said: “There is no perfect prayer if the solitary
perceives that he is praying.” This is the learned ignorance of
which the mystics often speak. The direct acts of true contemplation
do not indicate a dangerous idleness, but, on the contrary, a most
intimate knowledge of divine truth. And if, after such prayer, the
soul is humble, peaceful, detached, and zealous for the practice of
the virtues, this result is a sign that it has not lost its time in
prayer. These direct acts of contemplation are free, although they
are not the fruit of discursive deliberation.

THE PROGRESS OF INFUSED
CONTEMPLATION

We have pointed out that, to show the growing
intensity of contemplation and union with God, St. Teresa insists on
the progressive extension of the mystical state to the different
faculties, which gradually are either suspended or captivated by God.
First of all, the will alone is seized and held (in the prayer of
quiet), then the intellect (in more or less complete simple union);
next the imagination falls asleep, so to speak; lastly, in total or
partial ecstasy, the exercise of the exterior senses is suspended
because all the activity of the soul is drawn toward God. St. Teresa
knows, however, that the suspension of the imagination and of the
senses is only a concomitant and accidental phenomenon of infused
contemplation,802
since, she says, ecstasy generally ceases in the most perfect
mystical state, the transforming union.803
The mystical state, complete in regard to its extension, is not
therefore necessarily the most intense or the most elevated. St.
Teresa is well aware of this fact; but this extension, which is at
first progressive, then restricted, is easy to determine and
describe. It constitutes a sign which may be useful, on condition
that it be joined to another more profound sign on which St. John of
the Cross insists.

This more profound sign refers directly to the
progress of contemplation in penetration and to the intimacy of
divine union. It is found, first of all, in the passive purification
of the senses, then in that of the spirit, both of which denote great
progress in the intensity of the knowledge and love of God and of the
other virtues. St. Teresa did not indeed neglect this second sign;
she speaks of it in connection with the aridities that contemplatives
undergo, especially of the great aridity that is found at the
beginning of the sixth mansion, and that corresponds to the night of
the spirit. She also speaks of it in connection with the different
ways of watering a garden:804
water drawn from the well by hand is the figure of meditation; the
water-wheel, called a noria, is the symbol of the prayer of quiet;
irrigation by canals, which fertilizes the garden, represents the
sleep of the powers; finally, rain symbolizes the prayer of union.
Thus progressively the flowers of the virtues bloom and form the
fruits: “This is the time of resolutions, of heroic
determinations, of the living energy of good desires, of the
beginning of hatred of the world, and of the most clear perception of
its vanity.”805

Infused contemplation begins therefore, as St. John
of the Cross says,806
with the passive purification of the senses, which is a second
conversion in arid quiet; it progresses then, accompanied by the
consolations of the illuminative way. Contemplation becomes much more
penetrating in the night of the spirit, in the midst of great
spiritual aridity and of strong temptations against the theological
virtues. In this period these virtues and humility are purified of
all alloy and become truly heroic.807
The soul is thus prepared for the transforming union which St. John
of the Cross speaks of in The Living Flame of Love and St.
Teresa in the seventh mansion. The transforming union is the
culminating point of infused contemplation on earth and, in souls
that reach the full perfection of Christian life, it is the normal
prelude of eternal life.

WHAT INFUSED
CONTEMPLATION DOES NOT NECESSARILY REQUIRE

Several important observations arise from the facts
we have just presented.

1. The degrees of contemplation described by St. John
of the Cross and St. Teresa, show that contemplation does not always
imply joy, that it begins ordinarily in the aridity of the
sensibility, as it may subsist in great aridity of the spirit.
Moreover, it is not necessarily accompanied by an absolute
impossibility to discourse or to reason. Undoubtedly contemplation is
superior to discourse, but precisely for this reason contemplation
may inspire it from above, for example, in a preacher whose sermon
would spring from the plenitude of the infused contemplation of the
mysteries of Christ, like St. Peter’s sermons on Pentecost and
the pages which St. Augustine certainly wrote under a superior
inspiration.

2. It follows also from what precedes that the
mystical state gives at times the feeling of the presence of God (it
is the quasi-experimental knowledge springing from the gift of
wisdom); at others a great thirst for God, with intense suffering
because of inability to enjoy Him and a lively feeling of moral and
spiritual separation from Him (this is what happens especially in the
night of the spirit, when the penetration of the gift of
understanding makes itself felt more than the sweetness of the gift
of wisdom).

In this last state there is, besides, an infused
knowledge and an infused love, from which comes sharp suffering
because God is not loved as He should be. This lively suffering and
great thirst for God cannot, moreover, exist without a profound
influence of His grace in us. Consequently there is a painful
presence of God.

3. In addition, from what we have just said it is
clear that infused contemplation does not require infused ideas like
those of the angels,808
but only an infused light: the special illumination of the gifts of
understanding and wisdom, which is clearly distinguished from
gracesgratis datae like prophecy, the gift of the discerning
of spirits, or that of tongues, graces bestowed especially for the
benefit of one’s neighbor.809

4. Lastly, the description of the degrees of infused
contemplation given by St. John of the Cross shows that it is not an
immediate perception of God as He is in Himself; such a perception is
proper only to the beatific vision.810
When there is a marked influence of the gift of wisdom, God is known
without reasoning as present in us in His effects (medium in quo),
especially in the filial affection for Himself which He inspires in
us, and in the sweetness of love which He sometimes makes a soul that
is closely united to Him experience. This is the teaching of St.
Thomas in his commentary on verse sixteen of chapter eight of the
Epistle to the Romans when he discusses the words, “The Spirit
Himself giveth testimony to our spirit, that we are the sons of
God.”811
It is impossible to admit here an immediate intuition of sanctifying
grace itself.812

5. Therefore the mystical life is characterized by
the predominance (become both frequent and manifest for an
experienced director) of the superhuman mode of the gifts of the Holy
Ghost, especially of the gift of wisdom, which illumines the others.
However, in the passive night of the senses the gift of knowledge
predominates, showing the vanity of created things; in the night of
the spirit the soul experiences chiefly the deep penetration of the
gift of understanding, but without experiencing the sweetness of the
gift of wisdom. This gift appears in its full development and its
greatest influence in the transforming union. The mystical state in
general must not be confounded with its consoling phases, or with its
complete flowering; it often exists under the form of arid quiet,
which St. Jane de Chantal experienced for so long a time.813

THE CALL TO CONTEMPLATION

The call to contemplation may be understood in
different ways. When the question is raised whether all interior
souls are called to infused contemplation, the call in question is
general and remote, distinct from the individual and proximate call.
The latter call, moreover, may be only sufficient and followed by
resistance or negligence, or it may be efficacious, and that in two
ways: to lead souls actually either to the lower degrees or to the
higher degrees of contemplation.814
In this problem we are again confronted with the mystery of the
efficacy of grace, which is understood in one way by Thomists and
Augustinians, and in another by Molinists.

In response to the question whether all interior
souls are called to contemplation in a general and remote manner, we
believe that the reply must be in the affirmative according to the
principles formulated by St. Thomas on the gifts of the Holy Ghost
which are received by all the just, and by St. John of the Cross on
the passive purifications necessary for full Christian perfection,
toward which we should all tend.

Three principal reasons motivate this reply. They
relate to the radical principle of the interior life, to its
progress, and to its end.

I. The basic principle of the mystical life
(characterized by infused contemplation) is the same as that of the
common interior life: the grace of the virtues and the gifts. Now
docility to the Holy Ghost, according to the superhuman mode of the
gifts, should normally prevail with spiritual progress to remedy the
always imperfect human mode of the virtues and of our personal
activity aided by common grace. The mystical life, which is
characterized by this docility and this superhuman mode of knowledge
and of infused love, appears, therefore, normally first of all in the
illuminative way, but especially in the unitive way. Consequently St.
John of the Cross writes: “The soul began to set out on the way
of the spirit, the way of proficients, which is also called the
illuminative way, or the way of infused contemplation, wherein God
Himself teaches and refreshes the soul without meditation or any
active efforts that itself may deliberately make.”815
This text, as we have already pointed out, is one of the most
important.

2. In the progress of the interior life, the
purification of the soul, according to St. John of the Cross, who is
the faithful echo of tradition, is not complete except by the passive
purifications. These purifications belong to the mystical order, in
the sense that infused contemplation begins with the passive
purification of the senses, in which the illuminations of the gift of
knowledge predominate, and rises with the night of the spirit, in
which the gift of understanding assumes the principal role. The Holy
Ghost thus purifies humility and the theological virtues from all
alloy; He brings into powerful relief their essentially supernatural
and uncreated formal motive: the first revealing Truth, Mercy and
helpful Omnipotence, divine Goodness, sovereignly lovable for its own
sake.816
These passive purifications of a mystical order are thus in the
normal way of sanctity and dispense from purgatory those who undergo
them generously; they are a purgatory before death in which the soul
merits and makes progress, whereas in the other purgatory the soul no
longer merits.

3. The end of the interior life is the same as that
of the mystical life: eternal life, or the beatific vision and the
inamissible love resulting from it. But the mystical life disposes
the soul more immediately to this last end and, in the perfect, is
its prelude, as shown by the evangelical beatitudes, which are
eminent acts of the virtues and the gifts. The mystical life, which
is characterized by infused contemplation and infused love of the
divine goodness, is thus seen to be in the normal way of sanctity.

The reasons we have adduced—the basic principle
of the interior life, its progress by the necessary passive
purifications, and the ultimate end to which it is ordained—all
contribute to show, in short, that infused contemplation and the
union with God resulting from it are, in the perfect, the normal
prelude of the life of heaven.

The principles formulated by St. Thomas on the gifts
of the Holy Ghost, received by all the just, and the doctrine of St.
John of the Cross on the passive purifications thus lead us to admit
the general and remote call of all interior souls to infused
contemplation.817

The reservations made here and there by St. Teresa,
St. John of the Cross, Tauler, and other masters, refer to the
individual and proximate call.818
It is certain that all just souls are not called in an individual and
proximate manner to infused contemplation.

The proof of this statement lies in the fact that the
three principal signs of the proximate call are not in all the just,
or even in all interior souls. St. John of the Cross points out these
signs in The Dark Night: “(1) When we find no comfort in
the things of God (known by way of the senses), and none also in
created things. . . .(2) The second test and condition of this
purgation are that the memory dwells ordinarily upon God with a
painful anxiety and carefulness; the soul thinks it is not serving
God, but going backwards. . . .(3) The third sign . . . is inability
to meditate and make reflections, and to excite the imagination, as
before, notwithstanding all the efforts we may make; for God begins
now to communicate Himself no longer through the channel of sense, as
formerly . . . but in pure spirit, . . . in the act of pure
contemplation.”819

Finally, the individual and proximate call may be
sufficient but remain fruitless because of our negligence or, on the
contrary, it is efficacious, and that in different ways: to lead us
effectively either to the lower degrees of contemplation, or to the
highest degrees. Consequently St. Teresa applies to this subject our
Lord’s words: “Many are called, but few chosen.”820

Our discussion of the call to contemplation shows
that all interior souls may legitimately desire infused
contemplation, on condition that they remain humble and leave to the
good pleasure of God the time when this grace shall be granted to
them. Thus the farmer may legitimately desire and ask for rain that
will render fruitful the earth he has sown, but he should also trust
in Providence. If every prayer should be at once humble, trusting,
and persevering, the same qualities should characterize that prayer
by which we ask for the penetrating and sweet faith of which we have
just spoken, that is, a more lively and profound knowledge of
revealed mysteries, of the majesty of God, of His radiating goodness,
His providence, an experiential knowledge of the redemptive
Incarnation, of the Passion, of the humiliations of the Word made
flesh, of the influence that He still exercises through the
Eucharist, of the infinite value of the Mass, of the worth of a
fervent Communion, of the value of time which leads us to eternity.
Holy Scripture often repeats this prayer: for example, in the Book of
Wisdom we read, as the Office for the feast of St. Teresa recalls:
“Wherefore I wished, and understanding was given me: and I
called upon God, and the spirit of wisdom came upon me. And I
preferred her before kingdoms and thrones, and esteemed riches
nothing in comparison of her. . . .

For all gold in comparison of her, is as a little
sand, and silver in respect to her shall be counted as clay. I loved
her above health and beauty, and chose to have her instead of light:
for her light cannot be put out. Now all good things came to me
together with her. . . . I knew not that she was the mother of them
all. . . . For she is an infinite treasure to men, which they that
use, become the friends of God.”821
This passage clearly expresses the desire for the lights of the gift
of wisdom. Therefore we understand why the Carmelite theologians,
Philip of the Blessed Trinity,822
Anthony of the Holy Ghost, and the Dominican Vallgornera, in the
passages where they speak of the desire for infused contemplation,
say: “All ought to aspire to supernatural contemplation.”
Joseph of the Holy Ghost speaks in like terms: “We may all
aspire to it, ardently desire it, and humbly ask it of God.”823

THE DIRECTION OF SOULS IN
RELATION TO CONTEMPLATION

Before any sign of an immediate call to
contemplation, it is certainly advisable to point out to souls the
grandeur of the spirit of faith, which inclines one to consider all
things from God’s point of view: the mysteries of religion,
Christian worship, persons, whether pleasing to us or not,
pleasurable or painful events. Only with the grace of contemplation
is this lofty and supernatural consideration of all things perfect
and lasting. Thus contemplation may be spoken of discreetly, without
being named.

All souls can certainly be led to desire a sweet and
penetrating faith in the great mysteries of salvation, and it is
fitting that they ask for it. In the same way, before the signs of
predestination appear in a soul, it is made to desire eternal life.
Hence it may with propriety desire everything that is in the normal
way of eternal life.

We must, however, distinguish clearly here between
intention and realization. In the intention, the end that is glimpsed
and desired comes first, then the means. In the realization, the
inverse is true; the soul must rise from the most modest means to
higher ones. Here rash haste should be avoided, for it would lead to
neglect of the intermediate steps; to do so would compromise
everything. It would be like wishing to construct the roof of a
building before laying the foundations, or to fly before having
wings.

Souls should also be continually reminded of the
ordinary conditions of true union with God: habitual recollection,
complete renunciation, purity of heart, true humility, perseverance
in prayer despite prolonged aridity, great fraternal charity. If to
these conditions is joined love of the liturgy and of sacred
doctrine, the soul truly prepares itself for the proximate call to
the divine intimacy.

When the proximate call becomes manifest, souls
should read the description given by St. John of the Cross824
of the three signs of this call, or some other spiritual work
offering the same doctrine. Such reading will keep them from being
discouraged by the troubles and aridity of the night of the senses.
Once the graces of contemplation have become frequent, the reading of
the same works should be continued. This is especially true of those
works that put the soul on guard against the desire for essentially
extraordinary graces, that is, visions, revelations, and the
stigmata.

As soon as these souls are less faithful, they should
be told of the defects of proficients, of the love of the cross, of
the necessity of a more profound purification of the spirit, which is
the indispensable condition for close union with God and for the full
perfection of Christian life.

Many contemporary theologians—Benedictines,
Carmelites, Dominicans, Jesuits, and others—admit this doctrine
in substance, as shown by an inquiry which appeared in La Vie
spirituelle.825
We agree with Father Marechal, S.J., when he says: “Contemplative
activity should, even in its higher degrees . . . , mark a relatively
rare but normal development of the common life of grace. . . . [This
doctrine] echoes the most authentic tradition and now meets with
scarcely any opposition.”826

We see why Alvarez de Paz, S.J., wrote: “We
should blame ourselves if we never taste the ineffable sweetness of
contemplation.”827
And it is well known that St. Francis de Sales concludes: “Holy
contemplation is the end and the goal toward which all spiritual
exercises tend.”828

To avoid the imprudences, the rash haste of those who
might use this teaching as an authorization to neglect the
intermediate steps, one should often recall, as we have just said,
the conditions ordinarily required to receive the grace of the
contemplation of the mysteries of faith: purity and humility of
heart, simplicity of spirit, habitual recollection, and complete
renunciation.

This traditional doctrine is briefly summed up in the
lines we have already quoted from The Imitation: “There
are found so few contemplative persons, because there are few that
know how to withdraw themselves entirely from perishable creatures.”829
Contemplation is “the hidden manna”830
given by God to generous souls as the normal prelude of the beatific
vision.831

Chapter 32: The New Elements in Infused Prayer

Some declare that the explanation often given of
infused prayer, which attributes it to a special inspiration received
with docility through the gifts of the Holy Ghost, is insufficient.
According to them, this explanation does not sufficiently account for
what is new in infused prayer and shows that it differs only in
degree from acquired prayer, in which the gifts of the Holy Ghost
have begun to intervene in a latent manner.832

To explain this matter we shall examine two points:
first, whether the character of newness always clearly appears in the
transition from acquired to infused prayer; next, whether this
transition is to be explained by the inspiration and special
illumination of the gifts of the Holy Ghost.

WHETHER THE CHARACTER OF
NEWNESS ALWAYS APPEARS CLEARLY

The character of newness is incontestably clear if a
soul passes suddenly from more or less simplified discursive
meditation (occasionally called, in its last phase, acquired
contemplation) not to arid but to consoled quiet, which St. Teresa
speaks of in the second chapter of the fourth mansion. In this
infused prayer “the will is captivated” by the interior
illumination that shows it the goodness of God present in it as a
source of living water: “This joy is not, like earthly
happiness, at once felt by the heart; after gradually filling it to
the brim, the delight overflows throughout all the mansions and
faculties. . . . They [the celestial waters] appear to dilate and
enlarge us internally, and benefit us in an inexplicable manner, nor
does even the soul itself understand what it receives.”833

However, the saint says in the same chapter, it
happens that in this state the understanding and imagination do not
cease to be disturbed and to trouble the will.834
The character of newness of infused prayer would, therefore, be still
more sensible if the understanding itself were captivated and if the
imagination and memory ceased to be disturbed, as happens in the
prayer of union,835
which is compared to rain which falls from heaven, and no longer only
to the water wheel (noria) which draws water from a well.836

But more often it happens that the transition from
the last acquired prayer to initial infused prayer is not so clearly
distinguished. St. John of the Cross shows this in The Dark Night,
where he describes the night of the senses, which is recognized by
the three signs often cited: “The first is this: when we find
no comfort in the things of God (proposed in a sensible way by the
intermediary of the senses and the imagination, as in meditation). .
. . The second test and condition of this purgation are that the
memory dwells ordinarily upon God with a painful anxiety and
carefulness; the soul thinks it is not serving God, but going
backwards. . . . The third sign . . . is inability to meditate and
make reflections, and to excite the imagination as before,
notwithstanding all the efforts we may make; for God begins now to
communicate Himself, no longer through the channel of sense, as
formerly, in consecutive reflections, by which we arranged and
divided our knowledge, but in pure spirit, which admits not of
successive reflections, and in the act of pure contemplation.”837

This prayer is initial infused contemplation,
accompanied by persistent sensible aridity; consequently this state
has often been called arid quiet. St. Jane de Chantal838
often spoke of this prayer, which differs appreciably from the
consoled quiet, described by St. Teresa in the second chapter of the
fourth mansion. In the description given by St. John of the Cross,
the character of newness of initial infused contemplation is not very
striking. The same is true of the description contained in Bossuet’s
well known little work, Maniere facile et courte de faire
l’oraison en foi.

The first phase of this prayer is acquired, the
second is patently infused.839
Hence we can see why this prayer is spoken of as a mixed prayer, in
which the influence of the special inspiration of the Holy Ghost,
which is at first latent, begins to make itself felt.840

The great spiritual writers have even pointed out
several times that certain very generous interior souls often have
infused contemplation without realizing it, since contemplation may
exist in the great obscurities of the night of the senses and of that
of the spirit.

The passage from acquired to infused prayer is not,
therefore always stamped with a marked character of newness; and,
even when this new character is quite manifest, it is not the same in
arid quiet and in consoled quiet.

THE EXPLANATION OF THIS
TRANSITION

When the transition from acquired to infused prayer
is slow, progressive, as St. John of the Cross describes it in the
night of the senses, the special inspiration passively received
through the gifts of the Holy Ghost sufficiently explains the new
character that presents itself here.

But to understand it thus, we must see clearly the
specific difference between the human mode in which even the infused
virtues operate and the superhuman mode of operation of the gifts of
the Holy Ghost, the acts of which have precisely as their immediate
rule the illumination and special inspiration of the interior Master.
This inspiration is an elevated form of actual operating grace, which
moves us to act freely above all discursive deliberation. It is thus
notably superior to common actual grace, called cooperating grace,
which moves us according to discursive deliberation to place a given
act of faith, hope, charity, prudence, justice, or of some other
virtue. St. Thomas stressed this difference profoundly in two
articles which we have often explained: “Do the gifts differ
[specifically] from the infused virtues by their object and their
formal motive?”841
“How does operating grace differ from cooperating grace?”842

The difference is manifest: For example, I see that
the customary hour to say my Office has come; I move myself then
(aided by common actual grace, which in this case is cooperating) to
perform the acts of faith and religion proper to the recitation of
this prayer.

On the contrary, in the midst of a difficult,
absorbing study, I suddenly receive, without expecting it, a special
inspiration to pray, either for a better comprehension of what I am
reading or for a friend who must need prayers at that moment. In the
first case, Christian prudence inclines me to say the Divine Office
and to perform the acts of faith and religion that this liturgical
prayer demands; in the second, the special inspiration of the Holy
Ghost, which is above prudential deliberation, inclines me to pray.

There is certainly a new element here, although the
transition from one mode to the other may at times be slow and
progressive, and at others more rapid and even instantaneous.

When the transition is rapid—for example, if a
soul passes without intermediary from simplified discursive
meditation to the consoled quiet which is described by St. Teresa—why
would not the inspiration and special illumination received through
the gifts of the Holy Ghost suffice to explain it?

At this point in our study, it is important that we
consider the gifts not only in a general, schematic, and bookish
manner, but also in particular, in a concrete and living manner, as
St. Thomas and the great spiritual writers, such as St. Bonaventure,
Ruysbroeck, Tauler, and Father Lallemant, have described them.

The gift of knowledge explains the experimental
knowledge of the emptiness of created things in contrast to divine
things; in particular, such a knowledge of the gravity of mortal sin
as an offense against God, that one has a horror of sin. This
knowledge and horror have been remarked in certain converts at the
moment of their conversion. The simple, attentive reading of books of
piety, joined to the examination of conscience, could never have
given them this lively contrition, which manifests a special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost. In this case there is certainly a new
element.

Likewise the gift of piety, which is in the will,
explains why this faculty is captivated in the prayer of quiet by the
sweet presence of God, experientially known, as St. Thomas says in
his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans: “You have received
the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry: Abba (Father). For
the Spirit Himself giveth testimony to our spirit, that we are the
sons of God.”843
St. Thomas remarks in the same passage that the Holy Ghost gives this
testimony by the filial affection He inspires in us for Himself, to
which we could not have moved ourselves by common actual grace. Thus
the disciples of Emmaus said: “Was not our heart burning within
us, whilst He spoke in the way, and opened to us the Scriptures?”844
By the gift of piety, too, is explained, according to St. Thomas,
what we read in the Epistle to the Romans: “The Spirit Himself
asketh for us with unspeakable groanings.”845

Lastly, the gift of wisdom is, according to St.
Thomas,846
the principle of a quasi-experiential knowledge of the presence of
God in us, a knowledge based both on the special inspiration of the
Holy Ghost and on the connaturalness with divine things which comes
from charity. The special inspiration makes use of this
connaturalness which it actualizes (infused act of love) to show us
how greatly the mysteries of faith satisfy to the full our loftiest
aspirations and give rise to new ones. In this case there is an act
of infused love and of infused knowledge, of sweet and penetrating
faith. These acts are said to be infused, not only because they
proceed from infused virtues (in this case from the theological
virtues), but because they would not be produced without the special
inspiration to which the gifts render us docile. We could not have
moved ourselves to these acts by ourselves, with common actual grace,
called cooperating grace; we needed a special operating grace.847

REPLY TO A DIFFICULTY

It has been objected that this traditional
explanation, although given by the greatest masters, shows only a
difference of degree and not one of nature; therefore the really new
character of infused prayer is not sufficiently explained.

To this objection we reply that there is clearly a
specific difference, and not only a difference of degree, between the
gifts of the Holy Ghost and the infused virtues. The rule of our acts
differs according as they are performed either through or without the
special inspiration of the Holy Ghost.848
This is clear, for example, in regard to the inspiration of the gift
of counsel which supplies for the imperfection of prudence when it is
absolutely hesitant before an indiscreet question and is faced with
the problem of avoiding a lie and keeping another’s secret.
Sometimes only the inspiration of the Holy Ghost will furnish the
answer promptly. Such an inspiration will be given by the Holy Ghost
to generous interior souls that are, on the whole, docile to Him.

This specific difference is manifest when a
discursively deliberate act of prudence is followed by an act of the
gift of counsel (above discursive deliberation), which proceeds from
the special inspiration of the interior Master, in such a way that
prudence, remaining hesitant, is no longer exercised at the same
time. But sometimes the special inspiration is given only to
facilitate prudential deliberation by reminding us, for example, of a
certain expression from the Gospel; then the difference is less
evident.

Similarly, a man who is steering a boat will find an
appreciable difference between advancing by means of oars and
advancing under the impulsion of a favorable wind; this difference is
apparent when the wind becomes strong enough to dispense with rowing.
In this case there is certainly more than a difference of degree. The
difference is less obvious if the breeze does not dispense the rower
from all effort, but only facilitates his work.

Just so, says St. Teresa, prayer may be symbolized by
several different ways of watering a garden: one may draw water by
hard labor from a well, or bring it up by a pump, called a noria, or
irrigate the garden with water from a river, or lastly rain may water
the garden.849
If there is a brusque transition from the first way to the fourth,
the change is manifest; but the transition may be made in a
progressive manner. Moreover, infused prayer also, symbolized by the
rain from heaven, may be explained by the special illumination and
inspiration of the Holy Ghost, received through the gifts of
understanding, wisdom, and piety, when these gifts, which grow with
charity, exist in a higher degree.

We have shown at length elsewhere850
that to explain mystical contemplation, according to St. Thomas and
St. John of the Cross, it is not necessary to have recourse to
infused species or ideas similar to those of the angels, that it
suffices to have the infused light, called the special illumination
and inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which grows continually in every
generous interior soul that unites love of the cross with docility to
the interior Master. Faith thus becomes increasingly penetrating and
sweet.

Neither is it necessary to have recourse to prophetic
light, since that of the gifts suffices. St. Thomas makes this point
clear when he speaks of infused contemplation in Adam in the state of
innocence and then in us. He says: “In contemplation God is
seen by this means which is the light of wisdom, which lifts the
spirit to perceive divine things, although the divine essence is not
seen immediately; and thus, since original sin, by grace God is seen
by the contemplative, although less perfectly than in the state of
innocence.”851
The light of wisdom spoken of here is the gift of wisdom which St.
Thomas treats of ex professo, IIa IIae, q. 45. There is no
reason to see in it a light specifically distinct from that which
this gift disposes us to receive. Thus the new element found in
infused prayer is sufficiently explained by the traditional doctrine
of the special inspiration of the Holy Ghost, received through the
gifts. This point is confirmed by St. Thomas’ emphatically
clear teaching that the grace of the virtues and the gifts, which
unites us to God, is very superior to graces gratis datae,
which only make us know the signs of the divine intervention.852

Close union with God intimately present in us is
superior to these signs, which are evidently subordinate to it. The
divine reality, the hidden God, is superior to all symbols; excessive
attention to these signs would, says St. John of the Cross, turn us
away from infused contemplation, which attains God Himself in the
obscurity of faith.

THE SPECIAL ILLUMINATION
OF THE HOLY GHOST

In January, 1937, Father Lithard, C.S.Sp., sent the
following statement of his exact opinion on the special illumination
of the Holy Ghost to the editor of La Vie spirituelle.

Reverend Father:

La Vie spirituelle for November 1 published a
short article on the occasion of a note which appeared under my name
in the Revue d’ ascetique et de mystique. I should like to add
some precise statements to that note, and I trust that you will
accept them as readily as did Father Garrigou-Lagrange when I spoke
to him about the question in which I referred to him. I shall be
brief.

I readily agree with Father Garrigou-Lagrange about
the distinction that should be made between the helps which
strengthen our personal initiative and those which manifest the
divine initiative. In the first, the mode is purely human and we have
no experience of it; the others, on the contrary, bear the mark of
the gifts through which we receive them; they are “instinctive,”
and we are easily aware of them. We have experience of passivity.

But I pointed out that the helps received through the
gifts do not all seem to be of the same nature, a point which Father
Garrigou-Lagrange does not seem disposed to concede. Why, he says,
“would special illumination not suffice” in the second
case as well as in the first? My answer is this: because the
experience of the mystics seems clearly to demand another kind of
illumination in infused contemplation. Whereas hitherto, under the
plainly instinctive action of graces, either of prayer or of action,
they have been conscious only of their own acts,—acts,
more­over, which are within their capacity, abstraction being
made of instinctive delight, with the sole helps conceded to their
personal initiative—in infused contemplation they have, in
addition, the consciousness of being in contact with God, to the
extent that they speak with assurance of seeing, feeling, touching
God. And, on doing so, they no longer refer only to the passivity of
this specific act which is beyond all human power. For this reason we
declare that these acts are doubly infused and supernatural. And it
is at this point that these fortunate privileged souls speak of a
distinctly new, additional experience, introducing them as it were
into another world: what they knew by faith, they taste in faith.
Evidently it is the gifts which serve to receive these graces, since
they are by their nature, as Father Garrigou-Lagrange willingly
agrees, habitus receptivi, and not operativi, as the
virtues are.

Must we not, moreover, admit, beyond indistinct
infused contemplation, helps of another nature for distinct infused
contemplation, which requires infused species that render it
extraordinary? God is rich, and therefore varied in His gifts.

But I quite willingly admit with Father
Garrigou-Lagrange that the transitions are divinely gentle, at first
scarcely perceptible insinuations, whose nature is shrouded in
distant mystery and reveals itself only progressively. Is this not
true in all God’s works? If it is hard to say where one color
ends and another begins in the work of nature, must we be astonished
at our ignorance in the work of grace?

THE SPECIAL ILLUMINATION
OF THE GIFT OF WISDOM SUFFICIENT FOR INFUSED CONTEMPLATION

In the preceding pages we have already answered the
questions asked in Father Lithard’s letter. To complete the
subject we shall add the following observations.

I. To explain the new element in infused
contemplation, we must recall the specific difference between the
gifts of the Holy Ghost and the Christian virtues; emphasizing the
fact that the gifts dispose us to receive the special inspiration of
the Holy Ghost which moves us, above discursive deliberation, to
infused acts to which we could not have moved ourselves deliberately
by the virtues alone with the help of actual cooperating grace. Thus,
we said, there is a notable difference, and more than a difference of
degree, in the progress of a boat by dint of rowing or under the
impulse of a favorable wind, although at times the breeze favors the
work of the rowers without rendering it useless. Similarly, the gifts
are exercised in a latent manner in the ascetical life, and at times
in a manifest but rare manner; when their influence becomes at once
frequent and manifest to an experienced director, then the mystical
life begins. This life is quite easily discerned by the three signs
which St. John of the Cross gives of the passive purification of the
senses, in which, he says, infused contemplation begins.853

We also pointed out that the new character of infused
contemplation appears more clearly when one passes from discursive
meditation (symbolized, for example, by the noria) to consoled
quiet;854
whereas this new character stands out less clearly when one passes,
as ordinarily happens, from discursive meditation to the arid quiet
of the passive night of the senses.

2. We admit a great variety in the gifts, since each
has its distinct specification. For example, among the intellectual
gifts, that of counsel, which is of a purely practical order,
supplies for the imperfections of even infused prudence; the gift of
knowledge, which is often exercised in the aridity of the night of
the senses, shows us either the nothingness of creatures and the
gravity of sin, or the symbolism of sensible things in relation to
divine things. The gift of understanding gives us a special
penetration of the truths of faith as happens particularly in the
night of the spirit in spite of the great spiritual aridity found
therein. Lastly, the gift of wisdom gives us a quasi-experiential
knowledge of the presence of God in us by the wholly filial
affection, by the infused love, which God inspires in us for
Himself.855

3. We have also often pointed out that in certain
mystical souls the intellectual gifts, even that of wisdom, do not
intervene under the form of a brilliant light, as in the great
contemplatives, but under the form of a diffused light which is,
nevertheless, very precious, for it illumines all things from above,
in particular one’s conduct and the good to be done to souls.
This is the case, for example, in the entire apostolic life of St.
Vincent de Paul.

4. What we do not admit is that one and the same
habitus, like that of the gift of wisdom, is ordained to acts
of a different nature in such a way that the ordinary mode of the
first would not be ordained to the extraordinary mode of the second.
The unity of the habitus would no longer be safeguarded. We
explained our thought in this matter in La Vie spirituelle,856
and we need not repeat it here. Suffice it to state here that St.
Thomas clearly admits that the same gift, for example, that of
wisdom, has acts that differ notably on earth and in heaven, but the
earthly mode in the obscurity of faith is essentially ordained to the
celestial mode, which will be found in the clarity of vision; thus,
the unity of the habitus is safeguarded. It would not be so
otherwise.

The gifts dispose us to receive a special
inspiration, but in view of a determined operation having a formal
object, which specifies one gift rather than another. By the gifts,
St. Thomas says, we are more passive than active, but each is a
habitus receptivus, ordained to a special action and not to
actions of different natures.857
It is thus that contemplation, to which the gift of wisdom is
ordained, merits by its very nature the name of “infused,”
since we cannot obtain it by our own efforts and it absolutely
requires a special inspiration or illumination of the Holy Ghost,
which we can only receive, as the earth receives the desired rain.

We are not speaking here of the more or less
extraordinary phenomena that accidentally accompany infused
contemplation, or of the occasionally simultaneous influence of
certain graces gratis datae. But we are speaking of what is
essentially required for infused contemplation, which has, moreover,
many degrees, from the passive night of the senses up to the
transforming union.

To avoid all confusion, all these questions should be
distinguished from one another. This being the case, we say that,
according to St. Thomas and St. John of the Cross, the full normal
actualization of the gift of wisdom deserves the name of infused
contemplation, properly so called, and that without this
contemplation the full normal actualization of this gift does not yet
exist. We do not believe that a Thomist can deny this proposition.

5. We have also established at length858
that, according to St. Thomas and St. John of the Cross, infused
contemplation does not demand infused species or infused ideas, but
only the infused light of the gifts of understanding and wisdom, or
the special illumination which they dispose us to receive. Replying
to Father Lithard,859
we showed that the texts from St. Thomas on the mystical knowledge of
Adam in the state of innocence do not permit us to affirm anything
additional. The light of wisdom, which he speaks of in De
veritate,860
is clearly the infused light of the gift of wisdom, which he treats
of ex professo in the Summa.861

Moreover, in his letter Father Lithard, in order to
characterize he distinctly new experience of mystics “which
introduces them into another world,” says: “What they
knew by faith, they taste in faith.” This is, strictly
speaking, the quasi-experiential knowledge which, according to St.
Thomas, proceeds from the gift of wisdom and makes faith sweet. In
these spiritual tastes, so different from sensible consolations,
there are, besides, many degrees, from the initial infused
contemplation of the passive night of the senses up to that of the
transforming union.

If essentially mystical contemplation required a
special light other than that to which the gift of wisdom normally
disposes us, there might be a great non-mystical contemplative who
would have a high degree of the gift of wisdom without this special
particularity and, inversely, there might be a mystic who would not
have the eminent exercise of the gifts of the Holy Ghost, but only a
charismatic light suggestive rather of graces gratis datae.

6. In our writings on these subjects over a period of
twenty years we have pointed out that, as a rule, the persons who
adhere to the doctrine that we consider traditional are especially
those who have experience of infused contemplation, and that many of
those who do not adhere to this doctrine admit that they have not
this experience. But they seek to imagine it according to their
reading, and question the meaning of the terms used by the mystics:
to see God, to feel Him, to touch Him. It is not indeed a question of
the immediate vision of God as He is but, as St. Thomas says, of a
quasi-experiential knowledge of God in the infused love which He
inspires in us for Himself.862

In that part of his letter where he says, as it were
incidentally, “abstraction being made of instinctive delight,”
Father Lithard recognizes that this delight is not within our
capability or in our power, but that it is infused. Is it then
something negligible? And is it not precisely because of this delight
that farther on in the same letter he can write: “The fortunate
privileged souls speak of a distinctly new, additional experience,
introducing them as it were into another world: what they knew by
faith, they taste in faith”? This is what St. Thomas always
calls the essential effect of the gift of wisdom, when he quotes the
well-known text: “Taste, and see that the Lord is sweet.”863

7. Father Lithard thinks that the masters of the
spiritual life have given us the general principles, but have left us
the task of stating them precisely: a question of progress in this
branch of theology, as in dogmatic and moral theology.

We believe that masters like St. Thomas, St. John of
the Cross, and St. Francis de Sales, have given us more than general
principles, and that we are still far from a full comprehension of
what their works contain on these difficult questions. Before setting
ourselves the task of completing their work, we must try to
understand thoroughly what they have written. In particular the
author of The Dark Night and The Living Flame has
stated with great care and precision what concerns infused
contemplation and its various degrees, and what it is in the passive
purifications or outside of them. To state more precisely and to
complete what St. John of the Cross says about these lofty questions,
one would need great experience in these matters, coupled with a
profound knowledge of theology. Progress here is something very
elevated and is realized as a rule not by those who propose it to
themselves in advance, but by those to whom it is given to accomplish
it, as was the case with St. John of the Cross. It still remains for
us to penetrate, to grasp more profoundly, what he has taught,
avoiding every excessively material interpretation that would
constitute a serious diminution of his thought.

We must always revert to the definition of infused
contemplation given by St. John of the Cross in The Dark Night,
a definition that is so conformable to the teaching of St. Thomas:
“Contemplation is the science of love, which is an infused
loving knowledge of God.”864
In this definition St. John does not speak of a direct and immediate
intuition of the supernatural gifts of grace and of the infused
virtues, an intuition which, moreover, would give us a certitude of
being in the state of grace before even reaching the transforming
union. For all these reasons we maintain here what we stated about
the intimate nature of infused contemplation in articles 3–6,
chapter 4 of Christian Perfection and Contemplation.

Chapter 33: The Agreement and Differences Between St. Teresa and St.
John of the Cross

Even after a single reading of the works of St.
Teresa and of St. John of the Cross it is easy to note differences
between them, which have often been pointed out. We shall indicate
here espe­cially the origin of these differences.

THE CAUSE OF THESE
DIFFERENCES

The differences found in the works of St. Teresa and
St. John of the Cross are due to the diversity of their point of
view. St. Teresa speaks a great deal from her personal experiences
and describes the seven mansions of the interior castle by mentioning
extraordinary graces which she herself had received (suspension of
the senses, ecstasies, and visions), without taking particular care
to distinguish these phenomena, which are in a way exterior and
accidental, from what constitutes the basis of the mystical life,
from the essential ele­ment in each of the seven mansions. St.
Teresa is thus led to give more importance than other authors do to
sensible phenomena, which sometimes accompany infused contemplation
and mystical union. She also insists on the consideration of our
Savior’s humanity. In short, she is less attentive than others
in distinguishing in the seven mansions what pertains to the normal
way of sanctity, in par­ticular the passive purifications which
this sanctity presupposes.

St. John of the Cross no doubt also speaks from
personal experience and from that of the souls he directed, but
without mentioning it, for he seeks especially what is essential in
the progress of the soul toward close union with God. He made a
theological study of these matters, which St. Teresa did not, and his
study has unquestionably great importance in distinguishing what is
normal from what is accessory or accidental. In relation to the
interior life, he examined thoroughly what theology teaches about the
three theological virtues and the gifts that accompany them.
Consequently he endeavors to explain the states of prayer of
contemplative souls by the causes which produce them, linking them to
infused faith, vivified by charity and illumined by the gifts of
wisdom and understanding, thereby discerning better what the progress
of the love of God should ordinarily be in every truly generous
contemplative soul. From this point of view, he is particularly
attentive to what is in the normal way of sanctity, and he studies
more profoundly than any of his predecessors the passive
purifications of the senses and of the spirit, necessary for the
perfect purity of the love of God. Hence he is led to insist less on
the extraordinary graces which sometimes accompany infused
contemplation and which, in his works, appear more like concomitant
phenomena that are, so to speak, exterior and accidental. He also
dwells less on the consideration of our Savior’s humanity, that
he may fix his attention on the primary object of infused
contemplation, which proceeds from faith under, the special
inspiration of the gifts of understanding and wisdom; this object is
God Himself, present in us and attained in the obscurity of faith by
a quasi-experiential knowledge, which He Himself excites in us.

We, as well as many others, have often pointed out
these differences. They show that the author of The Dark Night
does much to complete what we read in St. Teresa and they make the
understanding of her works easier for the theologian who seeks to
explain, by their proximate principle or their cause, the states
described by the mystics.

WHETHER THESE DIFFERENCES
HAVE A COMMON BASIS

In recent years a number of theologians (Father
Arintero, O.P., Father Garate, S.J., Canon Saudrea, and several
others) have shown that these differences have a common basis. We
expressed the same opinion in Christian Perfection and
Contemplation.865
As a matter of fact, although St. Teresa speaks from personal
experience, she is sufficiently well acquainted with that of her
daughters to be able to set forth in the description of the seven
mansions what ordinarily happens to souls passing through them. And,
making use of the indications that she gives in various passages, we
can discern more clearly what is essential to the mystical life, even
in each of the seven mansions, and what is only a concomitant
phenomenon, such as ecstasy or a beginning of ecstasy. As we have
pointed out866
several times,. St. Teresa says clearly that in the prayer of quiet
first of all the will alone is seized, captivated by God, then the
intellect and the imagination; finally, in ecstasy, the exercise of
the exterior senses is suspended. But St. Teresa knows that the
suspension of the imagination and the senses is only a concomitant
and accessory phenomenon of infused contemplation. Speaking to her
daughters she says: “In reality there are very few who never
enter this mansion: some more and some less, but most of them may be
said at least to gain admittance into these rooms. I think that
certain graces I am about to describe are bestowed on only a few of
the nuns, but if the rest only arrive at the portal, they receive a
great boon from God, for ‘many are called, but few are
chosen.’”867

St. Teresa is well aware of the fact that ecstasy is
not a certain sign of a greater intensity of knowledge and love of
God, since she says that it generally ceases in the most perfect
mystical state, the transforming union.868
Father Lallemant, S.J., rightly insisted on this point.869

St. Teresa also notes that in the prayer of quiet,
“where the will alone is captive,” the other faculties
are at times the auxiliaries of the will and engage in its service;
at other times their contribution serves only to trouble it. “When
the will enjoys this quiet,” she says, “it should take no
more notice of the understanding (or imagination) than it would of an
idiot.”870
The saint also says that the consolation springing from the prayer of
quiet is often interrupted by aridities, by temptations against
patience and chastity, that is, by the trials which St. John of the
Cross speaks of in the passive night of the senses.871
This explains why, even for St. Teresa, over and above consoled
quiet, there is arid quiet, which St. Jane de Chantal872
described several times, and which is found in what the author of The
Dark Night calls the passive purification of the senses.

St. Teresa also points out that the prayer of union,
described in the fifth mansion, is often incomplete, without the
suspension of the imagination and memory, which sometimes wage a
veritable war on the understanding and the Will.873
Then, as in the prayer of quiet, the soul should pay no more
attention to the imagination than to an idiot,874
St. Teresa is speaking of this incomplete mystical union when she
says: “Is it necessary, in order to attain to this kind of
divine union, for the powers of the soul to be suspended? No; God has
many ways of enriching the soul and bringing it to these mansions
besides what might be called a ‘short cut.’ “875

Some have believed this “short cut” and
the delights found in it to be infused or mystical contemplation,
whereas it is only the suspension of the imagination and the memory,
or a beginning of ecstasy, which sometimes accompanies mystical union
and greatly aids it. Father Arintero, O.P.,876
Father Garate, S.J.,877
and Canon Saudreau878
have shown this to be so.

If St. Teresa were to say that a soul can reach the
fifth mansion by a non-mystical way, or without infused
contemplation, she would state the contrary of what she often affirms
in The Way of Perfection879
and also in the fourth mansion of The Interior Castle. Since,
as a matter of fact, in the fourth mansion the prayers of
supernatural or passive recollection and quiet are already infused
(and this is the essential characteristic of this period of the
interior life), with even greater reason those of the fifth mansion
are infused.880

The prayer of passive union is, therefore, not
extraordinary in its principle or in its very essence, although
certain of its accidental, concomitant phenomena may be. St. John of
the Cross certainly shows this more clearly, but even in The Interior
Castle it is quite manifest.

Lastly, it should be noted that St. Teresa describes
in the first chapter of the sixth mansion a very painful period of
trial which manifestly corresponds to what St. John of the Cross
calls the passive night of the spirit preceding perfect union. St.
Teresa speaks of “the interior anguish of the soul at the sight
of its own wretchedness. . . . For one of the severe trials of these
souls . . . is their belief that God permits them to be deceived in
punishment for their sins, . . . When . . . they discover any faults
in themselves, these torturing thoughts return. . . . They become
almost unbearable. Especially is this the case when such spiritual
dryness ensues that the mind feels as if it never had thought of God,
nor ever will be able to do so.”

These observations permit us to recognize a common
principle under the differences found between St. Teresa and St. John
of the Cross. Moreover, how could it be otherwise, since both of them
describe the way of perfect union and the different stages in this
ascent?

A RECENT OBJECTION

Quite recently, however, in the Traduction
nouvelle des oeuvres de saint Jean de la Croix, by Mother Mary of
the Blessed Sacrament of the Carmel of Mangalore (Vol. III, appendix
5), the translator, to whom we owe a fluent and generally faithful
version of the works of St. Teresa (known as the Edition of the
Carmelites of Paris), insists almost solely on the differences
between the two great saints of Carmel. This appendix recalls the
general introduction of the same work, which seemed to reach the
conclusion that there is disagreement between the two saints,
especially in regard to the consideration of Christ’s humanity.
In the Etudes Carmelitaines (April, 1934), Father Eliseus of
the Nativity insisted on rectifying immediately certain conclusions,
which he declared to be contrary to the text of The Interior
Castle and to the ensemble of the teaching of St. John of the
Cross881
He writes as follows: “In vain Reverend Mother eagerly repeats
that it is not a question of ‘contradiction’; we are
surprised to learn suddenly from her that St. John of the Cross
was-Heavens! it must be said—so roughly treated by the
Foundress.882

In the fifth appendix, contained in the third volume
of this translation, the translator insists on eleven differences
relating to the way the two saints conceived of contemplation, its
beginnings, infused character, the cooperation that the soul may
bring to it, by disposing itself for it or failing to do so, relating
also to the passive purifications, to the role of faith in
contemplation, to extraordinary favors, to illusions, to the humanity
of Christ, to death to the world. After these eleven differences, one
would expect to see the points of agreement between these two great
saints on the lofty subject of infused contemplation and the union
with God resulting from it. However, we are told nothing about this
subject. The translator seems even to believe that, to find this
agreement, the profound knowledge which theology can give of the
theological virtues and the gifts of the Holy Ghost is not of great
use.

As a rule Thomistic theologians, those of Carmel as
well as those of the Order of St. Dominic, especially Cajetan, O.P.,883
Joseph of the Holy Ghost, CD.,884
more recent writers,885
Father Gardeil, O.P.,886
and also Father de la Taille, S.J., and many others hold that infused
contemplation proceeds from infused faith enlightened by the gifts (a
fide infusa donis illustrata), or that it is “an act of the
virtue of faith actuated by the Holy Ghost, whose touch causes the
gifts to vibrate.”

On this subject the translator tells us: “As
for these subtle deductions, we are far from making them ours. It is
certain that St. John of the Cross gives faith an extremely
preponderant place in his mystical teaching.—Does St. Teresa
make contemplation rest on the exercise of the virtue of faith? In no
way.”887

If this were really the case, there would be a
serious disagreement. But she is obliged to recognize a few lines
farther on that “the virtue of faith evidently exists in her
contemplation [that of St. Teresa] like a substratum.” Then how
can she maintain that St. Teresa “does not make contemplation
rest in any way whatsoever on the exercise of the infused virtue of
faith”?

And how faintly comprehend “the extremely
preponderant place” which she admits that St. John of the Cross
gives to faith in his mystical teachings, if one does not go more
deeply into what the theology of St. Thomas and his best commentators
can tell us on this subject, if one dispenses oneself from examining
it, and says: “As for these subtle deductions, we are far from
making them ours”? Would St. Teresa, who willingly sought light
from theologians, have spoken thus?

In the same appendix, apropos of what we wrote in
Perfection chretienne et contemplation888
on the subject of the passage from meditation, which has become
impracticable, to initial infused contemplation (with the meaning
given to it by St. John of the Cross), the translator reminds us
that, “to advise St. Teresa’s prayer of quiet for a soul
which God does not gratify with it, would be entirely wasted
effort.”889
We did not at all forget when writing that passage that the prayer of
quiet is infused and not acquired, even in its essential element,
abstraction being made of a given concomitant and consoling
phenomenon which facilitates it. We said repeatedly in the same work
that no one can acquire it, although one can prepare oneself to
receive the special inspiration of the Holy Ghost which is its
proximate principle. With this meaning, St. Teresa herself speaks of
the noria (waterwheel) which symbolizes this work, which prepares the
soul to receive the divine illumination.890

The translator also points out to us in the same
appendix, apropos of the aforementioned passage, that we did not
mention between “meditation, which has become impracticable”
and “the prayer of quiet,” the initial obscure
contemplation which St. John of the Cross speaks of in the night of
the senses (that contemplation later on occasionally called acquired
or mixed contemplation, which prepares for infused), or that which
St. Jane de Chantal speaks of. We are all the more surprised at this
remark since, in the lines which precede the passage mentioned and in
those which follow it, we speak precisely of the initial infused
contemplation of St. John of the Cross, and of that of “simple
surrender to God” of St. Jane de Chantal.891

We conclude by repeating that if between the two
great mystics of Carmel there exist certain differences easy to see
and often pointed out, which are clearly explained by the fact that
St. John of the Cross is a theologian and St. Teresa is not, there
is, nevertheless, in their works an undeniable common principle, a
fundamental conception of infused contemplation, of the union with
God which results from it, and of the passive purifications necessary
to reach perfect union.

If it is fitting to point out their differences, it
is even more important to indicate their fundamental agreement; and
in order to see in what this harmony consists, one should not neglect
the help which the profound study of theology can give in these
difficult questions. It is highly important to distinguish in the
mystical life, and even in each of the seven mansions, between what
is essential and normal and what is an accessory and concomitant
phenomenon.892

PART 4—The Unitive Way of the Perfect

Section I: The Entrance into the Unitive Way through the Night of the
Spirit

In accordance with our plan for the division of this
work,893
we shall follow the teaching of St. John of the Cross, who is the
faithful echo of the tradition of the great spiritual writers, and
treat of the night of the spirit at the beginning of the unitive way,
since, according to the Mystical Doctor, the night of the spirit
marks the entrance into this way, understood in its full and intense
meaning. We shall see the nature of the passive purification of the
spirit, the conduct to be observed in it, its effects, and the
principal characteristics of the spiritual age of the perfect or of
souls already purified.

DIVISION OF PART IV

In this fourth part we shall discuss, first of all,
the entrance into the unitive way. According to St. John of the
Cross, the soul enters this way by the passive purification of the
spirit, which he explains in the second book of The Dark Night.
In our opinion the Mystical Doctor thus preserves and examines
thoroughly the traditional doctrine, because he considers the
illuminative way of proficients and the unitive way of the perfect
not in their diminished forms, but in their normal plenitude. From
this higher point of view, the illuminative way demands the passive
purification of the senses, which, we have seen, marks the entrance
to it and is like a second conversion, analogous to that of the
apostles, especially of Peter, during the dark night of the Passion.
For the same reason, the unitive way of the perfect demands a passive
purification of the spirit, which is like a third conversion, or
rather a transformation of the soul, similar to that experienced by
the apostles when, after being painfully deprived of the presence of
Christ on Ascension Day, they received the Holy Ghost on Pentecost.
This new purification strengthened them greatly and prepared them for
their apostolate, which from then on, was to have its source in the
plenitude of the contemplation of the mystery of Christ. This was
truly the case, as St Peter’s sermons on Pentecost and the
following days show.894

We shall, therefore, discuss, first of all, the
necessity of the passive purification of the spirit because of the
defects which subsist in proficients or the advanced. We shall see
the nature of this purification and its theological explanation; we
shall give the rules for direction appropriate at this stage, and
point out the effects of this purification and its concomitant
trials.

It will then be easier to characterize the spiritual
age of the perfect, to see the nature of the indwelling of the
Blessed Trinity in the purified soul, to describe the contemplative
faith of the perfect, their confidence in God, their abandonment,
charity, and zeal. We shall thus be led to speak of the transforming
union, following chiefly St. John of the Cross, and of the radiation
of this intimate union with God in the life of reparation and in the
apostolate. We shall thus be able better to determine what
constitutes the full perfection of Christian life, the normal prelude
of the life of heaven and the immediate disposition to receive the
beatific vision without passing through purgatory.

To show more clearly in what this normal plenitude of
Christian life consists, we shall not discuss in this Section the
essentially extraordinary graces that sometimes accompany and even
precede the transforming union; we shall deal with them in the
following section. Thus we can draw a clearer distinction between
every essentially extraordinary grace and the normal summit of the
life of grace on earth, that is, the full development of the virtues
and the gifts of the Holy Ghost. To be sure, this summit is an
eminent and relatively rare state, like lofty perfection; but it does
not follow that it is an intrinsically extraordinary favor, like the
gift of prophecy and other charisms, or graces gratis datae,
which are, besides, inferior to sanctifying grace. St. Thomas895
proves that prophecy and other similar charisms are only as it were
exterior signs, whereas sanctifying grace, from which proceed
charity, the other infused virtues, and the gifts, unites us to God
and tends while growing to unite us ever more closely to Him, until
it merits the name of consummated grace, which is eternal life
itself.

Chapter 34: The necessity of the Passive Purification of the Spirit,
and the Prelude of the Unitive Way

Christ said: “I am the true vine; and My Father
is the husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit, He will
take away: and everyone that beareth fruit, He will purge it, that it
may bring forth more fruit. . . . He that abideth in Me, and I in
him, the same beareth much fruit. . . . If you abide in Me, and My
words abide in you, you shall ask whatever you will; and it shall be
done unto you.”896
But to reach this state, the good branch must be pruned. In his
commentary on St. John’s Gospel, St. Thomas says: “In the
natural vine, the branch which has many shoots yields less fruit,
because the sap loses its efficacy by excessive diffusion in these
superfluous shoots; therefore the vine-dresser prunes them. Something
similar occurs in a man who is well disposed and united to God, but
whose affection and life are excessively exteriorized in various
ways; the strength of his interior life is then diminished and less
efficacious in regard to the good to be accomplished. For this reason
the Lord, who in this respect is like the vine-dresser, prunes His
good servants and frequently cuts away what is useless in them so
that they may bear more fruit. He purifies them for a long time,
sending them tribulations, permitting temptations that oblige them to
a holy and meritorious resistance, which renders them stronger in
regard to the good. The Lord inures to war and thus purifies those
who are already pure, for no one is ever sufficiently so on earth,
according to St. John’s statement: ‘If we say that we
have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us’
(I John 1:8). Thus the Lord purifies His servants so that they may
bear more fruit, that they may grow in virtue and be proportionately
richer in good works as they are more pure.

This text from St. Thomas’ commentary on St.
John refers properly to the passive purifications, which the just man
does not impose upon himself like mortification, but which he
receives from God. Thus was purified holy Job, who declared: “The
life of man upon earth is a warfare.”897
It is a time of laborious and painful service, a time of trial, like
the life of a soldier. Such it was for the apostles after Christ left
them on Ascension Day, and they assembled in the upper room to pray
and prepare themselves for the struggles which Christ had announced
to them, and which were to be crowned by their martyrdom.

The fathers of the Church and spiritual writers have
often spoken in this intimate sense of the cross we must bear daily,
the cross of the sensibility and that of the spirit, that the lower
and the higher parts of the soul may gradually be purified, that the
sensitive part may be perfectly subjected to the spirit, and the
spirit to God.

The fathers have often commented on these words of
Scripture: “As when one sifteth with a sieve, the dust will
remain: so will the perplexity of a man in his thoughts. The furnace
trieth the potter’s vessels, and the trial of affliction just
men.”898
“For gold and silver are tried in the fire, but acceptable men
in the furnace of humiliation.”899
“From above He hath sent fire into my bones,”900
said Jeremias in his Lamentations. Christ likewise said to Peter
before the Passion: “Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to
have you, that he may sift you as wheat.”901
Now this is realized especially in the passive purification of the
spirit, which prepares the soul for the life of close union with God.
St. Augustine,902
St. Gregory the Great,903
St. Maxim,904
Hugh of St. Victor,905
Ruysbroeck,906
Tauler,907
and more profoundly St. John of the Cross,908
have shown that this purification is necessary because of the defects
that remain in the proficients or advanced.

THE DEFECTS OF THE
ADVANCED

Consideration of this subject is advantageous to
interior souls, especially for three reasons: that they may see more
clearly the necessity and the value of the daily cross that each must
carry; that they may also better discern the unreasonable troubles
which they foolishly create for themselves from those which have a
true purifying value; lastly, that they may get a more exact idea of
purgatory, which will be necessary for them if they do not profit
sufficiently by the crosses sent to them in this life.

There are still many defects in proficients who have
made considerable progress, the inferior or sensible part of whose
souls is already in large part purified, and who have begun to live
the life of the spirit through the initial infused contemplation of
the mysteries of faith. The stains of the old man still remain in
their spirit like rust that will disappear only under the action of a
purifying fire.

St. John of the Cross points out909
that these advanced souls are still often subject to indirectly
voluntary distractions in prayer, to dullness, to useless
dissipation, to excessively human sympathy for certain persons,
leading to a lack of esteem for others, which is more or less
contrary to justice and charity. They have moments of natural
rudeness, the result of the sin of impatience. Some fall into
illusion by being too much attached to certain spiritual
communications; they expose themselves to the devil, who takes
pleasure in deceiving them by false prophecies. Others, under the
same influence, fall into bitter zeal, which leads them to sermonize
their neighbor and to deliver untimely remonstrances. Thereby, though
unaware of it, these advanced souls are puffed up with spiritual
pride and presumption and thus deviate from the simplicity, humility,
and purity required for close union with God. St. John of the Cross
says: “Some of them become so entangled in manifold falsehoods
and delusions, and so persist in them that their return to the pure
road of virtue and real spirituality is exceedingly doubtful”910
Evidently there are greater dangers than those at the beginning.

According to the holy doctor, this matter is
inexhaustible; and so far he has considered only the defects relative
to the purely interior life, to relations with God. What would it be
if one were to consider the defects that advanced souls still have in
their relations with superiors, equals, and inferiors; if one were to
consider all that, in this period of the spiritual life, still
injures charity and justice; all that, in those who have to teach,
govern or direct souls, stains their apostolate, teaching,
government, and direction?

Spiritual or intellectual pride, which still
subsists, inspires excessive attachment to personal judgment, to
one’s own way of seeing, feeling, sympathizing, willing. From
it are born jealousy, secret ambition, or again great
authoritarianism, unless one is by temperament inclined to the
contrary defect, that is, to excessive indulgence and to weakness
toward those who oppress others. Here too, may often be remarked a
lack of promptness and generosity in obedience, or, on the contrary,
a servility inspired by self-love. Frequent also are faults against
charity through jealousy, envy, slander, discord, contention.

At this stage may reappear many deviations, which
seriously trouble the life of the soul. The root of the higher
faculties of intellect and will is still deeply tainted with pride,
personal judgment, and self-will. The divine light and the will of
God do not yet reign there uncontested; far from it. These stains,
which are in the root of the higher faculties, have, in some cases,
been there for a long time; they may become encrusted as they grow
old and may profoundly alter the character by turning it away from
true intimacy with God. Thence are born many defamations and at times
most grievous divisions among those who should work together for the
good of souls.

St. John of the Cross says that this state of things
shows that, “if they be not removed by the strong soap and lye
of the purgation of this night, the spirit cannot attain to the
pureness of the divine Union.”911
“The intercourse of proficients with God is, however, still
most mean, because the gold of the spirit is not purified and
refined. They think, therefore, and speak of Him as children (they
have little understanding of the ways of Providence, which humiliates
them in order to exalt them), and their feelings are those of
children, as described by the Apostle: ‘When I was a child, I
spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child,’912
because they have not reached perfection, which is union with God in
love. But in the state of union, having grown to manhood, they do
great things in spirit—all their actions and all their
faculties being now rather divine than human.913
This is a clear way of stating that the full perfection of Christian
life belongs normally to the mystical order, since it presupposes the
passive purifications of the senses and of the spirit, which are
sharply characterized passive or mystical states easily distinguished
from melancholy and other fruitless spells of dejection of the same
kind, as we shall see farther on. It is a question here of fruitful
spiritual suffering and of a spiritual winter that prepares the
germination of a new spring. Winter is indispensable in nature; there
is also one which may be very useful in the life of the soul.

This is why St. Augustine used to say the prayer,
often repeated centuries later by St. Louis Bertrand: “Lord,
burn, cut, do not spare on this earth, that Thou mayest spare in
eternity.” It is important to be purified on earth with merit
rather than after death without merit. Nothing soiled enters heaven;
consequently, to enter there the soul must, sooner or later, undergo
a profound purification. The beatific vision of the divine essence
cannot, it is evident, be granted to a soul that is still impure.

THE DEPTHS OF THE WILL TO
BE PURIFIED

Before St. John of the Cross, Tauler greatly insisted
on the depths of our will, which need to be purified from the often
unconscious egoism that has for long subsisted in it, leading us to
disturbing and fruitless conversation with ourselves and not to
tranquilizing and vivifying conversation with God.

Tauler914
often speaks of the unconscious egoism that still inclines us to seek
ourselves in everything and at times to judge our neighbor with
severity while treating ourselves with great indulgence. This same
egoism which makes us seek ourselves in many things is especially
evident when trial strikes us; we are then completely upset and seek
help, consolation, and counsel from without, where God is not to be
found. We have not built our house sufficiently on Christ the rock,
with the result that it lacks solidity. We have built on self, on
self-will, which is equivalent to building on sand; thus at times
there is great weakness underlying harshness of judgment.

Tauler declares: “There is only one way to
triumph over these obstacles: God would have to take complete
possession of the interior of the soul and occupy it, which happens
only to His true friends. He sent us His only Son in order that the
holy life of the God-Man, His great and perfect virtue, examples,
teachings, and multiple sufferings might lift us above ourselves,
make us leave ourselves completely (draw us from this depth of
egoism), and that we might let our own pallid light disappear in the
true and essential light.”915

“This light [of the Word made flesh] shines in
the darkness, but the darkness did not comprehend it (John 1:5). None
but the poor in spirit and those who are completely stripped of self,
of self-love, and of their individual wills, receive this light.
There are many who have been materially poor for forty years and who
have never received the slightest [interior] ray of it. Through their
senses and reason, they know thoroughly what is said of this light,
but, in its essence, they have never tasted it; it is foreign to them
and remains far from them.”916

Again Tauler says: “It is thus that, whereas
simple common folk followed our Lord, the Pharisees, the princes of
the priests and the scribes, every class that had the appearance of
sanctity, harshly opposed Him and ended by putting Him to death.”917
God is the grandeur of humble souls, and His very lofty ways remain
hidden to our pride.

We see, consequently, to what extremities we may be
led by this depth of egoism and pride which blinds us and hinders us
from recognizing our sins. Therefore it is important that the light
of life of living faith and of the gifts of the Holy Ghost should
penetrate the depths of our intellect and, as it were, the root of
our will.

That we may receive this light and these gifts, it is
not sufficient to know the letter of the Gospel and adhere to it; we
must assimilate its spirit profoundly. Otherwise, appearing as
Christians and using the language of Christians, we would preserve in
the depths of our being something which is not Christian and which
resists the light of life. There would be in the depths of our
intellect and will as it were a citadel which would serve as a refuge
for self-love, which is unwilling to surrender and to allow the reign
of God to be profoundly and eternally established in us. Thereby
certain souls, that think themselves quite advanced but that do not
recognize their defects, are in greater peril than the common run of
men who admit that they are sinners and who preserve the fear of God.

Consequently we should meditate on Tauler’s
conclusion: “Therefore, well-beloved children, employ all your
activity, both of soul and body, to obtain that this true light may
shine in you in such a way that you may taste it. In this way you
will be able to return to your origin, where the true light shines.
Desire, ask, with nature and without nature,918
that this grace may be granted to you. Employ all your energy to this
end, pray to the friends of God that they may help you in this work;
attach yourself to those who are attached to God in order that they
may lead you to God with them. May this grace be granted to all of
us, and may the all loving God help us! Amen.”919

As a note in the translation which we have just
quoted points out, Tauler draws a distinction here between the
ordinary knowledge of faith, common to all the faithful, and mystical
knowledge, the loving experience of God felt in the depths of the
soul, which is reserved to the friends of God. Tauler invites all his
hearers and readers to desire this intimate knowledge that transforms
the center of the soul by illumining it, and that liberates it from
this prison of egoism in which the soul had shut itself up. In this
way alone can it be deified, divinized, by participating profoundly
through grace in the inner life of God. All these defects, which
still subsist in a measure in the depths of the intellect and will,
even in the advanced, demand, therefore, a purification that God
alone can effect. “God alone can deify, as fire alone can
ignite,” St. Thomas says in substance.920

This passive purification will certainly not be
without suffering, and, as St. John of the Cross teaches, it will
even be a mystical death, the death to self, the disintegration of
self-love, which until then has resisted grace, at times with great
obstinacy. Here pride must receive the deathblow that it may give
place to genuine humility, a virtue which has been compared to the
deepest root of a tree, a root which buries itself so much the more
deeply in the soil as the loftiest branch, the symbol of charity,
rises higher toward the sky.

This center of the soul, the refuge of personal
judgment and self­love that is often very subtle, must be
illumined by the divine light and filled by God, rendered completely
healthy, and vivified. On the feast of the Purification, at Mass and
in the procession each person carries a lighted candle, the symbol of
the light of life that each should bear in the innermost depths of
his soul. This light of life was given to man on the first day of
creation; extinguished by sin, it was rekindled by the grace of
conversion and by the hope of the promised Redeemer. This light grew
in the souls of the patriarchs and the prophets until the coming of
Christ, “a light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the
glory of . . . Israel,” as the aged Simeon said in his
beautiful canticle, Nunc dimittis, on the occasion of the
presentation of Jesus in the Temple.

This same light of life, which grew in humanity until
the advent of the Messias, should also grow in each of our souls from
baptism until our entrance into heaven. It should gradually illumine
and vivify the very center of our intellect and our heart that this
depth may be not an obscure depth of egoism, personal judgment, and
resistance to grace, but a depth of light and goodness where the Holy
Ghost, the source of living water springing up into eternal life, may
reign increasingly.

From what we have just said it is evident that the
passive purification of the spirit, made necessary by the defects of
proficients, is the decisive struggle between two spirits: the spirit
of pride, which may grow even to blasphemy, to hatred of God, and
despair, and that of humility and charity, which is eternal life
begun in us. These two conflicting spirits may be symbolized by two
trees, one of which illustrates the teaching of St. Gregory the Great
and St. Thomas on the roots and results of the seven capital sins,
while the other explains their doctrine on humility and charity, and
the connection of these virtues with the other virtues and the seven
gifts.

We showed earlier in this work,921
following these two great doctors, that from egoism or inordinate
self-love is born,—together with the concupiscence of the flesh
and that of the eyes,—pride, from which proceed especially four
capital sins: vanity, acedia, envy, and anger. We have also seen that
from the capital sins spring other defects and sins that are often
still more serious; among them should be noted particularly blindness
of spirit, discord, rancor, hardness of heart, blasphemy, hatred of
God, and despair. The tree of evil with its accursed flowers and
poisonous fruits symbolizes these sins.

In contradistinction, the tree of the virtues and of
the gifts has for its root humility, a root which penetrates more and
more deeply into the earth in order to draw nourishing secretions
from it. The lower branches of this tree are the cardinal virtues
with the connected virtues and the corresponding gifts; its higher
branches are faith, hope, and charity, the last being the loftiest
and most fruitful. To faith is attached the gift of understanding,
and also that of knowledge, which greatly perfects hope by showing us
the vanity of created things, the inefficacy of human helps for a
divine end, and by leading us consequently to desire eternal life and
to place our trust in God. To charity corresponds the gift of wisdom.
From it principally proceeds contemplation; and from contemplation,
actual union with God, which should become almost continuous, and
also perfect abandonment.

That this tree of the virtues and of the gifts may
reach its full development, there must be a definitive victory over
the remains of intellectual and spiritual pride which subsist in
proficients. Whence the necessity of the passive purification of the
spirit in which, with an eminent help from the Holy Ghost, the soul
makes heroic acts of the theological virtues to resist temptations
contrary to these virtues.

Chapter 35: Description of the Passive Purification of the Spirit

In the preceding chapter we discussed the defects of
proficients or the advanced, the remains of spiritual or intellectual
pride found in them, and the absolute need of purification for the
depth of the soul impregnated with self-love and subtle egoism. The
Lord alone can effect this profound purification.

We purpose here to describe this purification so that
it may not be confused either with sufferings springing only from
melancholy or neurasthenia, or with the sensible aridity of
beginners. Such a con­fusion would evidently be an unpardonable
error.922

THE DARKNESS IN WHICH THE
SOUL HAS THE IMPRESSION OF BEING

As the passive purification of the sensible parr of
the soul is manifested by the loss of the sensible consolations to
which it was excessively attached, the passive purification of the
spirit seems at first to consist in the deprivation of the lights
previously received of the mysteries of faith. Having become too
familiar, as it were, with them, the facility with which the soul
considered them in prayer caused it to forget their infinite
elevation; it thought of them in a manner somewhat too human. It
dwelt, for example, a little too much on Christ’s humanity,
without living sufficiently by faith in His divinity; it attained as
yet only the exterior aspects of the great mysteries of Providence,
of the Incarnation, of the redemption, of the Mass, and of the life
of the indefectible Church in the midst of continually recurring
trials. The soul had still only a very superficial knowledge of these
spiritual realities; its view of these mysteries was like that of a
stained-glass window seen from without.

Then, what occurs? To lift the soul above this
excessively inferior and superficial knowledge of divine things, the
Lord detaches it from this way of thinking and praying and seems to
strip it of its lights. In the words of St. John of the Cross: “God
now denudes the faculties, the affections, and feelings, spiritual
and sensual, interior and exterior, leaving the understanding in
darkness, the will dry, the memory empty, the affections of the soul
in the deepest affliction, bitterness, and distress; withholding from
it the former sweetness it had in spiritual things.”923

The sadness then experienced is very different from
that which has its origin in neurasthenia, disillusions, or the
contradictions of life. The chief difference is that the sadness of
the passive purification of the spirit is accompanied by an ardent
desire for God and perfection, by a persistent seeking after Him who
alone can nourish the soul and vivify it. No longer only a sensible
aridity, it is a dryness of the spiritual order, which springs, not
from the deprivation of sensible consolations, but from the loss of
the lights to which the soul was accustomed.

The soul should then walk “in the dark, in pure
.faith, which is the dark night of the natural faculties.”924
It can no longer easily apply itself to the consideration of our
Savior’s humanity; on the contrary, it is deprived of such
consideration, as were the apostles immediately after Christ’s
ascension into heaven. During the months preceding the Ascension,
their intimacy with Him had grown daily; it had become their life,
and then one day He took final leave of them on this earth, thus
depriving them of the sight of Him and of His encouraging words. They
must have felt very much alone, as it were, isolated, especially
while thinking of the difficulties of the mission our Savior had
entrusted to them: the evangelization of an impious world, plunged in
all the errors of paganism. On the evening of Ascension Day, the
apostles must have experienced the impression of profound solitude,
similar to that of the desert and of death. We can get a slight idea
of this solitude, when, after living in a higher plane during a
fervent retreat under the direction of a priest who is closely united
to God, we return to ordinary everyday life, which seems suddenly to
deprive us of this plenitude. The same thing is true, and indeed much
more so, after the death of a father, of a founder of an order, for
those whom he leaves and who must continue his work. Thus after
Christ’s ascension, the apostles remained gazing toward heaven;
their beloved Master had been taken from their gaze, and they felt
alone in the face of all the sufferings to come.

They must then have recalled Christ’s words: “I
tell you the truth: it is expedient to you that I go. For if I go
not, the Paraclete will not come to you; but if I go, I will send Him
to you.”925
“It is expedient to you that I go,” that I deprive you of
My sensible presence. In his commentary on St. John (loc. cit.), St.
Thomas says: “The apostles were attached to the humanity of
Christ, they did not rise sufficiently to the spiritual love of His
divinity, and were not yet prepared to receive the Holy Ghost . . .
who was to be given to them to console them and strengthen them in
the midst of their tribulations.”

This deprivation of the sensible presence of Christ’s
humanity which preceded the transformation of the apostles, effected
on Pentecost, throws light on the state of darkness and desolation
that we are discussing. It seems to the soul in this state that it
enters a spiritual night, for it is deprived of the lights which
hitherto illumined it; darkness descends as when the sun goes down.

THE REVELATION OF THE
MAJESTY OF GOD IN THIS DARKNESS

But does the soul see nothing in this dark night? In
the natural order when the sun has set and completely disappeared, at
least some stars are visible, which convey an idea of the depth of
the firmament. Hence at night we can see much farther than during the
day; true, hills or mountains, fifty or a hundred miles away, are no
longer visible, but we can see stars and constellations which are
thousands of leagues from the earth. The nearest star requires four
and a half years to send us its light. The sun seems larger than the
stars, although those of the first six magnitudes are far greater
than it.

In this natural fact we have a sensible symbol of a
lofty truth. When the soul enters the spiritual darkness we are
speaking of, it no longer sees what is near it, but it has an
increasingly better anticipatory apprehension of the infinite majesty
ana purity of God, although it does not see it, an apprehension
superior to all the ideas that we of ourselves can have of Him; and,
by contrast, it perceives much more clearly its own indigence and
wretchedness.

Thus after the Ascension, the apostles, deprived of
the presence of Christ’s humanity, began to glimpse all the
majesty of the Son of God. On Pentecost, Peter preached to the Jews
with unshakable faith: “But the Author of life you killed, whom
God hath raised from the dead.”926
“This [Jesus] is the stone which was rejected by you the
builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither is there
salvation in any other.”927

Such is the lofty contemplation born in the darkness
of which we are speaking. When the sun has set, we see the stars in
the depths of the firmament. But before enjoying the contemplation of
the starry sky, we must become used to walking fearlessly in the
night and triumphing over powerful temptations against faith and
hope, just as, during the night of the senses, it was necessary to
overcome many temptations against chastity and patience that have
their seat in the sensible part of the soul.

We may profit by recalling the case of the holy Cure
of Ars. His principal suffering sprang from the fact that he felt
himself far from the ideal of the priesthood, whose grandeur appeared
increasingly to him in the obscurity of faith, at the same time that
he had an ever clearer understanding of the needs of the innumerable
souls coming to him. The more he saw all the good that remained to be
done, the less he saw what had already been accomplished;
consequently he could not be complacent about it. His great
suffering, which approached that of Jesus, Priest and Victim, and of
Mary at the foot of the cross, was that which comes from the sight of
sinand from the loss of souls. This suffering presupposes a
penetrating view which is nothing else than the contemplation of the
infinite goodness of God, who is disregarded and outraged, and of the
value of eternal life. This contemplation grows more and more in the
dark night of faith which we are discussing.

St. Catherine of Siena pointed out in her Dialogue
that the contemplation of our indigence and wretchedness and that of
the infinite majesty and goodness of God are like the lowest and
highest points of a circle that could grow forever. In reality, in
this contemplation there is a contrast, a clear-cut opposition
between two things which in an admirable manner mutually illumine
each other.

In the life of Blessed Angela of Foligno we find a
striking example of this fact, which she recounts as follows: “I
see myself deprived of every good, of every virtue, filled with a
multitude of vices; . . . in my soul I see only defects . . . false
humility, pride, hypocrisy. . . . I would wish to cry out my
iniquities to others. . . . God is hidden for me. . . . How can I
hope in Him? . . . Though all the wise men of the world and all the
saints of paradise were to overwhelm me with their consolations, they
would bring me no relief, if God does not change me in the depths of
my soul. This interior torment is far worse than martyrdom.”928
Then, recalling that God Himself was afflicted in Gethsemane, that
during His passion He was scorned, buffeted, and tortured, she wished
that her suffering might be increased still more, for it seemed to
her a purifying suffering, which revealed to her the depths of the
Passion. Some days later, on a road near Assisi, she heard these
interior words: “O My daughter! I love thee more than any other
person in this valley. . . . Thou hast prayed to My servant Francis,
hoping to obtain with him and through him. Francis loved Me greatly,
I did much in him; but if anyone loved Me more than Francis, I would
do more for him. . . . I love with an immense love the soul that
loves Me without falsehood. . . . Now, no one has any excuse, for all
the world can love; God asks only love from the soul; for He Himself
loves without falsehood, and is Himself the love of the soul.”929
Causing her to glimpse His passion, Jesus crucified added: “Look
closely: dost thou find anything in Me which is not love?”930

Another striking example of the spiritual night which
we are speaking of is found in St. Paul of the Cross, the founder of
the Passionists. We read in his Letters:

Little
corporal or spiritual tribulations are the first steps of this lofty
and holy ladder which great and generous souls climb. They ascend
step by step until they reach the last rung. There, at the summit,
they find the purest suffering, without the slightest admixture of
consolation coming from heaven or earth (the suffering which comes
from offense offered to God). And if these souls are faithful in not
seeking consolations, they will pass from this pure suffering to the
pure love of God, without anything else being mingled with it. But
rare are the souls which reach such a degree. . . .

It seems to
them that they are abandoned by God, that He no longer loves them,
that He is irritated against them. . . . This is almost the pain of
damnation, if I may express myself in this manner, a suffering, whose
bitterness is comparable to no other. But if the soul is faithful,
what treasures it amasses! The storms pass and go, the soul
approaches true, very sweet, and very close union with Jesus
crucified, who transforms it in Himself and reproduces His own
features in it.931

These excerpts show that St. John of the Cross is not
the only one who spoke profoundly of the night of the spirit because
he had experienced it. Before him, Hugh of St. Victor had compared
the passive purification of the soul by grace and the love of God to
the transformation which green wood undergoes when attacked by fire:
“The dampness is consumed, the smoke diminishes, the victorious
flame shows itself; . . . finally it communicates its own nature to
the wood, which is set completely on fire. Likewise the love of God
gradually grows in the soul, the passions of the heart at first
resist, which causes many sufferings and troubles; this thick smoke
must be dissipated. Then the love of God becomes more ardent, its
flame more lively . . . and finally it penetrates the entire soul.
The divine truth is found and assimilated by contemplation; the soul,
detached from self, no longer seeks anything but God. He is for it
all in all; it rests in His love and finds therein joy and peace.932

Speaking in like terms, Tauler says that the Holy
Ghost creates a void in the depth of our souls where egoism and pride
still dwell. He creates the void that He may heal us, and then He
fills it to overflowing while continually increasing our capacity to
receive.933

St. Teresa speaks of the passive purification of the
spirit in the first chapter of the sixth mansion of The Interior
Castle.

We read also in the life of St. Vincent de Paul that
for four years he endured a trial of this type, which was marked by a
persistent temptation against faith. The temptation was so strong
that he wrote the Credo on a sheet of paper, which he carried over
his heart and pressed from time to time to assure himself that he did
not consent to the temptation.934

We should also keep in mind that St. John of the
Cross, after Tauler, describes this state as it is in the saints in
all its amplitude and intensity, such as he himself must have
undergone it. But the purification is found in lesser degrees and
under less purely contemplative forms, united, for example, to the
great trials met with in the apostolate.

If the passive purification of the spirit seems
extraordinary to us outside the normal way of sanctity, this is
because we do not give enough thought to what a profound purification
of the soul is necessary to receive immediately eternal life, the
beatific vision of the divine essence, without having to pass through
purgatory or after having done so. And when we read the exposition of
this doctrine in the great masters, we read it perhaps through a
certain curiosity about divine things, but without a sufficiently
sincere desire for our own sanctification. If we had this desire, we
would find in these pages what is suitable for us, we would see there
the one thing necessary.

We must in one way or another pass through this
crucible in order to have a concept of our Savior’s passion, of
the humility of Jesus and His love for us, that will not be only a
confused concept, or only a theoretically distinct concept, but an
experimental concept, without which there is no love of the cross or
true sanctity.

We must tell ourselves that the world is full of
crosses that have unfortunately been lost like that of the bad thief.
God grant that our sufferings may not be fruitless and that our
crosses may resemble that of the good thief, which served as a
reparation for his sins. May our crosses resemble even more closely
the cross of Jesus and configure us to Him. Sanctifying grace, as it
grows, makes us more and more like to God; inasmuch as it is
Christian grace, it assimilates us to Christ crucified, and should
make us grow more like Him until our entrance into heaven. It should
mark us with the likeness of our Savior who died for love of us.

We must also take into account the inequality between
souls and between their means. We must ask of souls only what they
can give: of some, a continuous upward surge of heroism; of others,
little steps, which bring them ever nearer the end to be attained.
But, to be configured to Christ, every soul must sacrifice itself
under some form or other.

Chapter 36: The Cause of the Passive Purification of the Spirit

Having described in the preceding chapter the passive
purification of the spirit as it appears especially in the interior
lives of the great servants of God, we shall now explain this
spiritual state theologically by determining its cause. We have seen
that it consists chiefly in a profound experiential knowledge of our
indigence and wretchedness and, by contrast, of the infinite majesty
of God, a knowledge which is accompanied by great spiritual aridity
and a lively desire for perfection. What can be the cause of this
obscure and painful contemplation?

St. John of the Cross935
answers, as theology must do, by invoking Holy Scripture, which
speaks to us in a number of passages of a purifying light, a
spiritual fire that rids the soul of its stains.

PURIFYING INFUSED LIGHT
AND SPIRITUAL FIRE

The Book of Wisdom says of the just: “As gold
in the furnace He hath proved them, and as a victim of a holocaust He
hath received them.”936
Gold in the crucible is purified by material fire; a still more
intense fire is needed to transform coal into a diamond; likewise, in
tribulation the soul of the just man is purified by a spiritual fire.
Scripture often insists on this thought, telling us that God is a
fire which gradually consumes whatever hinders His reign in souls.937

Jeremias writes in his Lamentations: “From
above He hath sent fire into my bones. . . . He hath made me
desolate, wasted with sorrow all the day long.”938
In the light of this spiritual fire, which in him, the prophet sees
far more clearly the sins of Israel, the justice and goodness of God,
and he prays earnestly to Him for the salvation of sinners.

The Psalmist says likewise: “Who can understand
sins? From my secret ones cleanse me, O Lord.”939
“My substance is as nothing before Thee.”940
“O my God, enlighten my darkness.”941
“Create a clean heart in me, O God.”942
Thus, like a flash of lightning, the Holy Ghost illumines the soul He
wishes to purify. He says at times to the soul: “Do you wish to
be purified?” And if the reply is what it ought to be, a
profound work begins in it; divine truth is given to the soul to
deliver it from the depth of self-love that still so often deludes
it. “If you continue in My word,” says Christ, “you
shall be My disciples indeed. And you shall know the truth, and the
truth shall make you free.”943
If anyone lives seriously by the words of Christ, correcting himself,
the first Truth will gradually penetrate into his soul and deliver it
from that most pernicious of lies, the lie that a person tells
himself while cherishing his illusions.

We can never too strongly desire this purifying light
which Scripture speaks of. Unfortunately we often flee from it,
because we are afraid we may be told the truth about ourselves, when
we so greatly love to tell others the truth about themselves.

St. John of the Cross simply explains the nature of
the purifying light spoken of in Scripture, when he writes: “The
dark night is a certain inflowing of God into the soul which cleanses
it of its ignorances and imperfections, habitual, natural, and
spiritual. Contemplatives call it infused contemplation, or mystical
theology, whereby God secretly teaches the soul and instructs it in
the perfection of love, without efforts on its own part beyond a
loving attention to God, listening to His voice and admitting the
light He sends, but without understanding how this is infused
contemplation.”944
In the life of the holy Cure of Ars we have a striking example of
this state. Comprehending better every day the loftiness of the
priestly ideal and judging himself to be farther than ever from it,
he certainly did not think then that he was a contemplative, and yet
it was God Himself who was enlightening him and instructing him in
this way.

Among the comparisons used to explain more clearly
the spiritual state we are speaking of is one by Hugh of St. Victor,945
which St. John of the Cross reproduces as follows: “This
purgative and loving knowledge, or divine light, . . . is to the soul
which it is purifying in order to unite it perfectly to itself,946
as fire is to fuel which it is transforming into itself. The first
action of material fire on fuel is to dry it, to expel from it all
water and all moisture. It blackens it at once and soils it, and
drying it little by little, makes it light and consumes all its
foulness and blackness which are contrary to itself. Finally, having
heated and set on fire its outward surface, it transforms the whole
into itself, and makes it beautiful as itself. . . . It is in this
way we have to reason about the divine fire of contemplative love
which, before it unites with, and transforms the soul into itself,
purges away all its contrary qualities. It expels its impurities,
blackens it and obscures it, and thus its condition is apparently
worse than it was before. For while the divine purgation is removing
all the evil and vicious humors, . . . the soul—though not
worse in itself, nor in the sight of God—seeing at last what it
never saw before, looks upon itself not only as unworthy of His
regard, but even as a loathsome object and that God does loathe it.”947

This salutary crisis is a purgatory before death, in
which the soul is purified under the influence, not of a sensible
fire, but of the spiritual fire of contemplation and love. “And
thus,” says St: John of the Cross, “the soul which passes
through this state in the present life, and is perfectly purified,
either enters not into purgatory, or is detained there but a moment,
for one hour here is of greater moment than many there.”948
The reason is that on earth man is purified while meriting and
growing greatly at times in charity, whereas after death he is
purified without meriting. And as purgatory is a penalty and every
penalty presupposes a sin that could have been avoided, the normal
way of sanctity is to undergo the passive purifications of which we
are speaking before death and not after death. In reality, however,
rare are they who go immediately from earth to heaven, without
passing through purgatory. The true order of Christian life is fully
realized only in the saints.

Is the purifying light, which we have just spoken of,
only that of living faith, or also that of one of the seven gifts of
the Holy Ghost, present in all the Just? If we consider the
characteristics of the gift of understanding, we see that it is
chiefly this gift which intervenes in this state.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE GIFT
OF UNDERSTANDING IN THIS PURIFICATION

St. John of the Cross offers the following
explanation: “Because the soul is to attain to the possession
of a certain sense and divine knowledge, most generous and full of
sweetness, of all human and divine things which do not fall within
the common-sense and natural perceptions of the soul, it views them
with different eyes now; as the light and grace of the Holy Ghost
differ from those of sense, the divine from the human. . . . For this
night is drawing the spirit away from its ordinary and common sense
of things, that it may draw it toward the divine sense, which is a
stranger and an alien to all human ways; so much so that the soul
seems to be carried out of itself.”949

This teaching of St. John of the Cross receives
additional light from what St. Thomas says about the gift of
understanding and the new penetration and purification of which it is
the principle. According to St. Thomas: “The stronger the light
of the understanding, the further can it penetrate into the heart of
things. Now the natural light of our understanding (even in the
greatest geniuses) is of finite power; wherefore it can reach to a
certain fixed point. Consequently man needs a supernatural light in
order to penetrate further still (into God or into the depths of the
life of the soul) so as to know what it cannot know by its natural
light: and this supernatural light which is bestowed on man is called
the gift of understanding.”950
“Wherefore this addition is not called reason but
understanding, since the additional light is in comparison with what
know supernaturally, what the natural light is in regard to those
things we know from the first.”951

This gift presupposes faith united to charity and
perfects it. Living faith makes us firmly adhere to the divine
mysteries because God has revealed them, but of itself alone it does
not yet make us penetrate the profound meaning of the mysteries, of
the majesty of God, the Incarnation, the redemption, the humiliations
of Christ dying for love of us. The penetration that we are here
speaking of is not that which comes from study, from theological
labor; it proceeds from a special illumination of the Holy Ghost,
which, not abstractly and theoretically, but vitally, concretely, and
practically, goes farther, higher, and deeper than study. Through the
gift of understanding we receive this penetrating illumination with
docility. It prevents us, first of all, from confusing the true
meaning of the word of God with the erroneous interpretations
sometimes given of it. This gift shows us in an instant the inanity
of the objections raised by an evil spirit, so wholly different from
the spirit of God. Error then creates the impression of a false
discordant note in a symphony; though unable to refute it
theologically, we see that it is an error. Likewise the gift of
understanding emphasizes the immense distance separating spiritual
realities from sensible symbols, or the spirit from the flesh.952
Similarly it dispels the confusion between sensible consolations and
spiritual tastes, which are far more elevated and more sure, as St.
Teresa pointed out.953

Not only does the gift of understanding remove error,
but it positively makes man penetrate vitally the truths of religion
which are accessible to reason, such as the existence of God, the
sovereign freedom of the Creator, and His providence;954
but principally it makes him penetrate the meaning of the
supernatural mysteries inaccessible to reason, what St. Paul calls
“the deep things of God.”955
It cannot give us here on earth the evidence of these mysteries, but,
in the obscurity of faith, it manifests to us their deep meaning, so
difficult to express in human speech. It thus shows us the majesty of
God, of His wisdom, justice, power, and paternity in relation the
Word and to us. It gives us, for example, a more profound
understanding of the mystery of the redemption by making us
understand St. Paul’s words: “Christ Jesus . . . emptied
Himself . . . He humbled Himself, becoming obedient unto death, even
to the death of the cross.”956

The gift of understanding is thus both speculative
and practical as St. Thomas says.957
It reminds us of the sovereign importance of the precept of love. In
times of strong temptation, for example, to discouragement or even
despair, it shows us as it were in a lightning flash the value of
eternal life, the loftiness of our last end.958
Thus by the penetration it brings, this gift removes dullness of
mind;959
it shows us our culpability far better than the most attentive
examination of conscience; it reveals to us our indigence, our
poverty, our wretchedness, and by contrast the eminence of God.

Therefore we see how, as St. Augustine and St. Thomas
say, it corresponds to the beatitude: “Blessed are the clean of
heart.” In fact, it purifies our intellect of speculative and
practical errors, of attachment to sensible images; it makes us
perceive, though indistinctly, that God is infinitely superior to all
created goods, that the Deity or divine essence, which the blessed
contemplate immediately, is superior to all the analogical ideas that
we can form of it.960
We thus perceive that the Deity, which will appear unveiled only in
heaven, is to our ideas of the divine perfections somewhat as white
light is to the seven colors of the rainbow which come from it. A man
who has never seen whiteness, but only the colors which come from it,
cannot say positively what white is. Just so, we cannot say what the
inner life of God is. “Nescimus de Deo quid est,”
St. Thomas often says. The Deity as such, in which we share only by
grace, is superior to all the naturally knowable and participable
perfections which it contains formally and eminently; it is superior
to being, to unity, to truth, to goodness, to understanding, to
love.961
It is the Deity, which we cannot know in its essence as long as we
are on earth; that is why great mystics, like Angela of Foligno, have
called it “the great darkness.”962
But this great darkness is nothing else than the transluminous
obscurity, or, as St. Paul says, “the light inaccessible”963
in which God dwells.

Thus we see why the purifying light of the gift of
understanding gives the impression of darkness; it makes us enter on
a higher plane into the obscurity of the supernatural, the divine
mystery, which is the direct opposite of the obscurity on the lower
plane on which we are affected by the condition of material things,
by inordinate passions, by sin and error.

We can also understand why St. Thomas tells us that
the gift of understanding confirms the supernatural certitude of
faith by making us penetrate mysteries and by dispelling error.964
Thus contemplation, which exists in the state of darkness we are
speaking of, proceeds from living faith as from its radical
principle, and from the gift of understanding as from its proximate
principle. The gift of knowledge also often concurs in it by
revealing to us more in detail our poverty, culpability, and
wretchedness.965

The spiritual aridity found in this state shows that
the gift of wisdom does not exert a notable influence in it, for this
gift makes us relish divine things and thus brings us great spiritual
consolation and profound peace.966

The penetration, which, in this state, comes from the
gift of understanding, differs from this relish of the divine
mysteries. The proof of it is that he who in this way penetrates or
comprehends increasingly the majesty of God, feels that he is
alienated from Him because of the contrast between God’s
majesty and his own indigence.967
Later, at the end of the purification of the spirit, he will taste
profoundly the presence of the Blessed Trinity in his soul, he will
have a quasi-experimental knowledge of it, which was, as it were,
sketched before the night of the spirit, and which, after this night,
will appear in its plenitude in the transforming union.

St. John of the Cross describes the passive
purification of the spirit as it is realized in great saints, but,
all proportion being kept it should exist in every servant of God
that his higher faculties may be truly purified to their depths,
either on earth or after death in purgatory, since nothing unclean
can enter heaven. Moreover, the proximate principle of this
purification, the penetrating light of the gift of understanding,
exists in all the just. For this reason Christ says to all: “Blessed
are your eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear,”
that you may grasp the spirit under the letter, the divine reality
under figures, symbols, or parables. Blessed are they who thus
distinguish between the spirit of God and a human wisdom that would
lead them astray.

It remains for us to explain more fully the reasons
why the purifying light of the gift of understanding creates the
impression of darkness during the passive purification of the spirit.
We shall thus see more clearly how this higher obscurity differs from
the lower. In many supernatural facts more or less disconcerting to
human reason, such as the passion of Christ, there is an enigma in
which some are inclined to see darkness from the lower level of their
illusions and pride; others discover the darkness from the higher
level, that of God’s inner life and of the mysteries of His
grace. We need only recall the first controversies over the
apparitions of Our Lady of Lourdes to Bernadette. The confusion of
these two darknesses is that of two extremes infinitely distant one
from the other, between which we have to walk. More than that, we
must continually lift ourselves out of the darkness of the lower
plane to penetrate more and more into the darkness of that higher
plane, which is the inaccessible light in which God dwells. The night
of the Spirit thus appears as the normal prelude of eternal life and
as its painful germination in us.968

Chapter 37: The Transluminous Obscurity

We have seen that the spiritual light of the gift of
understanding, which is given to the soul in the passive purification
of the spirit, enlightens it regarding the infinite majesty of God on
the one hand, and, by contrast, regarding its own poverty and
wretchedness.

Our problem now is why this infused purifying light
manifests itself as darkness. Why does it give the impression of a
great darkness and why does it at times cause great suffering?

There are three reasons for it, which are pointed out
by St. John of the Cross and more readily understood with the help of
the theology of St. Thomas Aquinas. A great light gives the
impression of darkness because of its very strength and of the
elevation of its object. Moreover, it makes us suffer because of our
impurity and weakness, which we feel more keenly under certain
temptations of the devil that occur in this period.

THE EFFECT OF TOO GREAT A
LIGHT

First of all, St. John of the Cross, following
Dionysius and the great theologians, says: “The divine wisdom
is so high that it tran­scends the capacity of the soul, and
therefore is, in that respect, darkness,”969
because we comprehend with increasing clarity that the divine Essence
or the Deity surpasses all the ideas we can have of it, ideas of
being, truth, goodness, intelligence, and love; it contains them all
in an eminence inaccessible to us, which essentially is sovereignly
luminous, but which seems dark to us because we cannot attain it.970
This “inaccessible light”971
in which God dwells is for us the great darkness. Thus the light of
the sun seems dark to the eye of the owl, which can bear and attain
only the dim light of twilight or dawn. Aristotle pointed this out,972
and Dionysius the Mystic likewise says that contemplation is like “a
ray of darkness.”

Consequently what seems clear to us in God, as His
existence and the existence of His providence, is what we grasp of it
in the mirror of sensible things, in the dim light within our reach.
But the intimate harmonization of infinite justice, infinite mercy,
and supreme liberty in the mystery of predestination seems very
obscure to us, although this intimate harmonization may be
intrinsically very luminous. Souls passing through the dark night of
the spirit are consequently often tempted on the subject of the
mystery of predestination; and in this trial they cannot dwell on the
excessively human and seemingly clearer conceptions of this mystery.973
They would feel as if they were descending instead of ascending. They
must rise above the temptation by turning, through a great act of
faith, toward the superior obscurity of the intimate life of God, of
the Deity, in which harmonize infinite justice, infinite mercy, and
the supreme liberty of the Most High.

The Blessed Trinity also, which is Light itself,
seems obscure to us because too luminous for the weak eyes of our
spirit. For this reason St. Teresa says: “I have more devotion
to the mysteries of faith in proportion as they are more obscure;
because I know that this obscurity comes from a light too great for
our weak understanding.” Christ’s passion, which was the
darkest and most disconcerting period for the apostles, was that of
Christ’s greatest victory over sin and the devil.974

THE EFFECT OF LIGHT ON
WEAK EYES

Furthermore, the divine light, given in the night of
the spirit, causes suffering because of the impurity still existing
in the soul. St. Augustine pointed this out, saying: “The light
which so greatly pleases pure eyes is hateful to weak ones.”
This is so much truer when this divine light must overcome a special
resistance of the soul, which is unwilling to be enlightened in
regard to certain of its defects, wishing at times to see virtues in
them: for example, in regard to a somewhat bitter zeal and a secret
complacency, as a result of which it is deceived by its self-love and
by the enemy of the good. “The light shineth in darkness,”
says St. John, “and the [inferior] darkness did not comprehend
it.”975
This light seems painful when it must overcome resistance, especially
a prolonged resistance.

It even happens often that the soul suffers greatly
because it cannot understand why God tries it in this way, as if He
were an implacable judge. As a result, it has difficulty in believing
practically in His goodness; and when someone speaks of the goodness
of God, it seems abstract and theoretical to the soul at a time when
in its opinion it needs to experience this goodness by a little
consolation.976

THE FEAR OF CONSENTING OR
OF HAVING CONSENTED TO TEMPTATIONS

This interior suffering increases still more through
the fear of consenting to temptations arising at this time against
faith, hope, and the love of God and of neighbor. Holy Job
experienced this fear, and so did the apostles during the Passion and
after the Ascension, when Christ had departed from them and left them
alone.

In this painful state, the soul sees clearly that at
times it resists these temptations, but at others it fears that it
consented. This fear causes it anguish, for in this state the soul
already greatly loves the Lord and would not for anything in the
world offend His majesty or slight His goodness.977

We have here the explanation of the fact that,
whereas at the summit of the spirit there is an act of faith
illumined by the gift of understanding, a direct and very simple,
though unperceived, act of arid contemplation, at the same time the
just man is inclined by his lower reason to conclude that he is
abandoned by God. This was the case with St. Paul of the Cross when
he exclaimed in the streets of Rome: “A via Pauli, libera
nos Domine”; also with St. Alphonsus Liguori, who believed
that the Order which he had founded was going to perish; with Father
Surin in his desolations, from which he emerged occasionally to
preach, out of charity, an admirable sermon springing from the depths
of his tormented faith, which was daily growing in this struggle. At
this stage there is in tried souls, as in those of purgatory, a flux
and reflux; carried toward God by the impulse of their love, they
feel themselves repulsed by all the wretchedness and pusillanimity
which they see in themselves.

As a rule, the director can bring no consolation to
the soul thus afflicted, says St. John of the Cross.978
He speaks to it of the glorious end of this trial, of the soft light
that will be met with again on leaving this tunnel, but the soul,
immersed in suffering, cannot understand these words. It cannot
receive consolation by this human and discursive way, but only
through a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost and through very
simple direct acts which He excites in it. For this reason Father de
Caussade says with his usual charm: “Souls walking in the light
sing hymns of light; those walking in the darkness sing canticles of
darkness. We must let both classes sing even to the end the part and
the motet that God assigns to them. We must put nothing into what He
is filling; we must let all the drops of this gall of divine
bitterness flow, though it should inebriate. Jeremias and Ezechiel
acted in this manner. . . . The spirit which renders desolate, alone
can console. These different waters flow from the same source.”979

Scripture states several times: “The Lord . . .
bringeth down to hell and bringeth back again. The Lord maketh poor
and maketh rich, He humbleth and He exalteth.”980
This statement is verified especially in the night of the spirit,
which is the mystical death; it prepares the soul for the intimacy of
union with God. The soul empty of all self-love can reach absolute
sincerity; every mask drops away. The soul no longer possesses
anything of its own, but is ready to possess God, like the apostles,
of whom it was said: “As having nothing, and possessing all
things.”981
The emptiness that it experiences renders it still more eager for
God.

CONFIRMATIONS

The doctrine just set forth is confirmed in several
ways. First of all, it is confirmed by the dogma of purgatory.
Nothing unclean can enter heaven; therefore the purification of the
spirit, which we are speaking of, must be undergone before or after
death. However it is far better and more profitable to undergo it
before death; for in the present life man merits while growing in
charity, whereas in purgatory he no longer merits. It is far better
to be purified by the spiritual fire of growing infused love than by
another inferior fire. In this connection, it will be profitable to
read what St. Catherine of Genoa says in her Treatise on Purgatory
about the purification in the next world.

St. John of the Cross points out an additional
confirmation: “For the light of God that illumines an angel
enlightens him and sets him on fire with love, for he is a spirit
already prepared for the infusion of that light; but man, being
impure and weak, is ordinarily enlightened . . . in darkness, in
distress, and pain—the sun’s rays are painful in their
light to weak eyes.”982

When we receive this divine illumination, we are not
as a rule conscious that God is enlightening us; nevertheless, some
words of the Gospel on mercy or justice are illumined for us. This is
a sign that we have received a grace of light.

We find a third confirmation of what we have said in
the analogy of night in nature, a symbol that enables us to
understand a little the state of purification, called the night of
the spirit. In nature, when the sun goes down and night falls, we no
longer see the objects surrounding us, but we do see distant objects
not visible during the day, such as the stars, which are thousands of
leagues away. And the sun must hide that we may see them, that we may
be able to glimpse the depths of the firmament. Analogously, during
the night of the spirit we see much farther than during the luminous
period preceding it; these inferior lights must be taken away from us
in order that we may begin to see the heights of the spiritual
firmament.983
This is why Christ said to His apostles: “It is expedient to
you that I go. For if I go not, the Paraclete will not come to you;
but if I go, I will send Him to you.”984
As a matter of fact, when the apostles could no longer see Christ’s
humanity, they began to glimpse the grandeur of His divinity. They
were so well enlightened and fortified that on Pentecost the Apostle
Peter preached to all who were in the temple at Jerusalem, saying:
“But the Author of life you killed, whom God hath raised from
the dead, of which we are witnesses.”985
“Neither is there salvation in any other. For there is no other
name under heaven given to men, whereby We must be saved.”986
Peter’s preaching sprang from the plenitude of the
contemplation of the mystery of Christ. St. Thomas says it must be so
in order that preaching may be living and profound,987
a condition that is fully realized only after the purification of the
spirit.

What St. John of the Cross says, Tauler has pointed
out several times in his sermons, for example, in the sermon for the
Second Sunday of Lent.988
According to Tauler, the tried soul, which at first seems to pray in
vain, like the woman of Canaan, is, however, as if pursued by God:

This divine
pursuit provokes in the soul an appealing cry of immense force; . . .
it is a sigh coming from a measureless depth. This desire of the soul
far exceeds nature; it is the Holy Ghost Himself who must utter this
sigh in us, as St. Paul says: “The Spirit Himself asketh for us
with unspeakable groanings.” . . . But God acts then as if He
heard absolutely nothing, . . . as Christ seemed at first not to wish
to hear the prayer of the woman of Canaan, saying to her: “I
was not sent but to the sheep that are lost of the house of Israel. .
. . It is not good to take the bread of the children and to cast it
to the dogs.” . . . Humbling herself then she replied with
great confidence: “Yea, Lord; for the whelps also eat of the
crumbs that fall from the table of their master.” . . . That ‘s
why Jesus answered her: “O woman, great is thy faith: be it
done to thee as thou wilt.” In truth, this is the answer that
will be made to all those who will be found in such dispositions (of
profound humility and confidence) on this road. All that you wish
will happen to you and in the way you wish it, for “in the
measure in which you have gone forth from what is yours,” says
the Lord, “in this measure you are to share in what is Mine.”
. . . In proportion as a man renounces himself and goes out of
himself, in the same proportion God enters into him in very truth. .
. . Take the last place, as the Gospel says, and you will be lifted
up. But those who exalt themselves will be put down. Desire only what
God has willed from all eternity; accept the place which in His most
amiable will He has decided should be yours. My children, it is by
complete renunciation of self and of all that one possesses that one
goes to God. One drop of this renunciation, one rill of it, would
better prepare a man and lead him nearer to God than the most
absolute exterior denudation. . . . A short moment lived in these
dispositions would be more useful for us than forty years following
practices of our own choice.

In this sermon Tauler speaks forcibly of the one
thing necessary. The grace of denudation in question here fulfills
profoundly the words of the Gospel: “Unless the grain of wheat
falling into the ground die, itself remaineth alone. But if it die,
it bringeth forth much fruit.”989
Blessed is the death that is followed by such a spiritual
resurrection.990

Chapter 38: Conduct to Be Observed during the Purification of the
Spirit

After describing the period of passive purification
that should introduce the soul into the unitive way of the perfect,
we explained this purification by the purifying light, which is
chiefly that of the gift of understanding, in which we contemplate
the majesty of God and our poverty, not to mention our wretchedness.
We shall now give rules of direction for souls in this state of
prolonged aridity, which is sometimes so painful.

GENEROUS ACCEPTANCE

There is, first of all, a general rule. These
afflicted souls should be treated with kindness and helped that they
may be led to full conformity to the divine will. The first rule of
direction is that these souls should accept this trial generously for
as long a time as, according to the good pleasure of God, it may
last, and they should live in abandonment to the divine will.
Moreover, as a general rule, the more generously they accept this
purification, the quicker it will end, since the effect for which God
wills it, will be more promptly accomplished. If it is more intense,
it will generally be shorter (like the purification of purgatory)
unless the soul is to suffer specially for sinners, over and above
its personal purification.

Excellent books have been written on abandonment to
Providence in this period of the spiritual life. Besides The Dark
Night (Bk. II) of St. John of the Cross, there is the Treatise
on The Love of God (Bk. IX) of St. Francis de Sales on the love
of submission and of holy indifference in spiritual afflictions.991
In the seventeenth century, Father A. Piny, O.P., wrote Le plus
parfait, or the way of abandonment to the will of God, and also
L’Etat du pur amour. In the same period we find Les
saintes voies de la croix by the Venerable Henry Mary Boudon; in
the eighteenth century, Abandonment to Divine Providence by
Father de Caussade, S.J.; and recently (1919), Le saint abandon
by Dom Vitalis Lehodey, O.C.R.

In this question of abandonment, two dangers must be
avoided: quietism and the opposing error. Quietism or semi-quietism
denies the necessity of our cooperation and goes so far as to demand
in these trials the sacrifice of our hope or desire of salvation.992
On the contrary, we must in this case, as St. Paul says: “Against
hope believe in hope.”993

The contrary error would consist in exaggerating the
necessity of our cooperation while diminishing that of prayer and
disregarding the efficacy of our petitions and the conduct of
Providence which directs all. It would amount to a sort of practical
naturalism. Tried souls should, on the contrary, pray particularly,
ask the help of God to persevere in faith, trust, and love. They must
be told that, if they continue to pray in this severe trial, it is a
sign that, in spite of appearances, their prayer is granted; for no
one can continue to pray without a new actual grace. And God who,
from all eternity, has foreseen and willed our prayers, excites them
in us.

To this general rule of the generous acceptance of
the trial in conformity with the divine will, must be added three
special rules relating to the three theological virtues, by which
especially one must live during the night of the spirit. Here more
particularly is verified the expression: “The just man liveth
by faith.”994
The night of the spirit is that of faith whose object is obscure
mysteries which appear so much the more obscure in proportion as they
are higher above the senses. St. Thomas often says: “Fides est
de non visis,” the object of faith is things not seen. One does
not believe on testimony what one sees.

FAITH IN THE MYSTERY OF
THE CROSS

In the trial of which we are speaking, the soul must,
therefore firmly believe in what God has told of the great efficacy
of the purifying cross in the life of the Church and in its own
personal spiritual life. That this faith may be practical, it must
tell itself that the cross is necessary and good for it. St. Louis
Bertrand, during this period of his life, used often to repeat the
words of St. Augustine: “Lord, burn, cut, do not spare now,
that in eternity Thou mayest spare.” The soul must believe that
it is good for it to be thus painfully purified, that this
purification is one of the distinctive signs of the children of God,
and that this profound and painful purification glorifies the Lord.
It must be penetrated with St. Paul’s words: “We have
this treasure [of divine grace] in earthen vessels, that the
excellency [of the Gospel] may be of the power of God, and not of us.
In all things we suffer tribulation, but are not distressed; we are
straitened, but are not destitute; we suffer persecution, but are not
forsaken; we are cast down, but we perish not: always bearing about
in our body the mortification of Jesus, that the life also of Jesus
may be made manifest in our bodies.”995
“Power is made perfect in infirmity. Gladly therefore will I
glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me.”996
“Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to
enter into His glory?”997
“We are the sons of God. And if sons, heirs also; heirs indeed
of God and joint heirs with Christ: yet so, if we suffer with Him,
that we may be also glorified with Him.”998

As sanctifying grace is a participation in the divine
nature and makes us like to God, habitual grace, as Christian and as
coming from Christ crucified, configures us to Him and prepares us to
carry our cross in imitation of Him. In this sense it adds a special
modality to sanctifying grace as it was on the first day of creation
in the angels and in Adam in the state of innocence. St. Thomas
points this out in treating of baptismal grace.999

Thus we know the mystery of the redemption in a more
living, profound, and quasi-experiential manner. We then comprehend
how greatly deceived were the Jews who said to our Lord: “If
Thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.”1000
They should have said, on the contrary, as did the centurion on
witnessing the death of our Savior: “Indeed this man was the
Son of God.”1001
Christ never appeared greater than during His passion, when He said:
“My kingdom is not of this world.”1002
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”1003
“It is consummated.”1004
Christ’s victory over sin and the devil on Good Friday is far
greater than the victory He won over death by His resurrection. The
resurrection of His body is only a sign of the power He has to
restore life to souls, to forgive them their sins.

The cross is thus a distinctive sign of the Christian
who is configured to his Savior. Therefore, as a rule, among the
signs of predestination are named: patience in adversity for the love
of God, love of enemies in spite of their insults and calumnies, love
of the poor, especially when personal affliction supernaturally
inclines us to help them. “Because I am not unacquainted with
evil things. I know how to commiserate the wretched.”

The soul that is in the night of the spirit should,
therefore, often contemplate the passion of Christ, following the
example of the saints, and ask for light to have a more profound
understanding of the holy humiliations of our Savior and of their
infinite redemptive value.

FIRM HOPE AND CONSTANT
PRAYER

During this painful purification, the soul should
also, the quietists to the contrary notwithstanding, hope against all
human hope, asking unceasingly for the help of God. Abraham acted
thus when God tried him by asking for the immolation of his son.1005
It may seem to it at first that God does not hear it, as was the case
with the woman of Canaan; but He wishes in this way to try the
confidence of the soul and at the same time, if it asks Him, He gives
it the grace to continue to pray. This grace is itself a sign that He
grants the prayer of the soul.

The soul must also recommend itself to the saints
that they may intercede for it, especially those who were
particularly tried in this manner, such as St. John of the Cross, St.
Paul of the Cross, St. Benedict Joseph Labre, and the holy Cure of
Ars.

It should pray in the manner used in the liturgy, the
elevation of which then appears increasingly clear to those who bear
this trial well. “O Lord, deliver my soul. The Lord is merciful
and just, and our God showeth mercy.”1006
“The Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. . . . He hath
led me on the paths of justice, for His own name’s sake. For
though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear
no evils, for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they have
comforted me.”1007
“Deliver me, O Lord, and set me beside Thee, and let any man’s
hand fight against me.”1008
Christ said: “He that followeth Me, walketh not in darkness,
but shall have the light of life.”1009

That hope may be strengthened in the soul, it is also
well in this state to meditate on the canticle in Compline for Lent,
which used to make St. Thomas Aquinas weep: “In the midst of
life, we are in death. Whom seek we as a protector, except Thou, O
Lord, who art justly angered by our sins. Holy God, holy Strong One,
holy and merciful Savior, deliver us not up to the bitterness of
death. Abandon us not in our old age, nor when our strength will fall
us, holy God; holy and strong, holy and merciful” Such is the
prayer the soul should make in the night of the spirit; it enables
the soul to glimpse all the mystical grandeur of the liturgy.

When we pray in this manner, hope is purified and
strengthened in the soul; far from sacrificing the desire for its
salvation, as the quietists advised, the soul should desire God more
and more purely and strongly. True, this desire should not
subordinate God to the soul like a fruit necessary to its
subsistence, but it should desire to possess God, its supreme Good,
in order to glorify Him eternally.1010

THE LOVE OF CONFORMITY
AND OF SUBMISSION TO GOD’S GOOD PLEASURE

Lastly, in this state of trial, the soul should, as
St. Francis de Sales well shows,1011
be penetrated with Christ’s words: “My meat is to do the
will of Him that sent Me.”1012
In spiritual tribulations and afflictions, the soul should nourish
itself with the will of God so that self-love may die definitively in
it, that the soul may be truly stripped of self-love, and that the
reign of the divine will may be established in the depths of its
will. The soul will obtain this grace if it accepts, for love of God,
to do and suffer all that He wishes, as obedience, circumstances, and
the interior light of the Holy Ghost may indicate.

Consequently the soul should be penetrated with the
evangelical beatitudes: blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek,
those who shed the tears of contrition; those who hunger and thirst
after justice and preserve this zeal in spite of all difficulties;
blessed, too, are the merciful, the clean of heart, the peacemakers;
blessed are they who suffer persecution for justice, when they are
insulted and persecuted because of the Savior. Their reward is great
in heaven, and even on earth they will receive the hundredfold of all
that has been taken from them; they will receive it especially in
close union with God and in working for the salvation of their
neighbor.

Souls that pass through this denudation and are
calumniated ought often to reread what St. Paul says to the Romans:
“If God be for us, who is against us? . . . Christ Jesus . . .
maketh intercession for us. . Who then shall separate us from the
love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or
nakedness, or danger, or persecution, or the sword? . . . But in all
these things we overcome, because of Him that hath loved us. For I am
sure that neither death nor life nor angels nor principalities nor
powers nor things present nor things to come nor might nor height nor
depth nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the
love of God,”1013
nor be able to make God abandon the just, if they do not abandon Him
first.

In this period of purification, one should ask our
Lord for the love of the cross, for the desire to share in His holy
humiliations in the measure willed by Providence. The soul should ask
Him also to let it find in this desire the strength to bear whatever
may come, the peace, and sometimes the joy, to restore its courage
and that of souls that come to it.1014
Then this trial, hard as it may be at times, will seem good to it; at
least the soul will believe that it is salutary and sanctifying for
it.

Then it will more readily grasp the great meaning of
the words of The Imitation on the royal road of the cross: “In
the cross is salvation; in the cross is life; in the cross is
protection from enemies. In the cross is infusion of heavenly
sweetness; in the cross is strength of mind; in the cross is joy of
spirit; in the cross is height of virtue; in the cross is perfection
of sanctity. . . . No man hath so heartfelt a sense of the Passion of
Christ as he whose lot it hath been to suffer like things. . . . If
thou carry the cross willingly, it will carry thee. . . . If thou
carry it unwillingly, thou makest it a burden to thee, and loadest
thyself the more. . . . For the sufferings of this life are not
worthy to be compared with the glory to come.”1015

The painful purification we are speaking of creates a
great void in the soul by driving out self-love and pride, and gives
it an increasingly eager desire for God. St. Francis de Sales
explains this effect, saying:

As man can
be perfected only by the divine goodness, so the divine goodness can
scarcely so well exercise its perfection outside itself as upon our
humanity. The one has great need and capacity to receive good, the
other great abundance and inclination to bestow it. Nothing is so
suitable to indigence as a liberal abundance; nothing so agreeable to
a liberal abundance as extreme indigence. . . . The more needy the
indigent man is, the more eager he is to receive, as a vacuum is to
be filled. Therefore the meeting of abundance and indigence is sweet
and desirable; and if our Lord had not said that it is better to give
than to receive, one could hardly say which has greater contentment,
abundant good in diffusing and communicating itself or failing and
indigent good in receiving. . . . Divine goodness has, therefore,
more pleasure in giving its graces than we in receiving them.1016

The void created in the soul that is stripped of
self-love and pride causes it to become, therefore, increasingly
capable of receiving divine grace, the abundance of charity. In this
sense the Apostle says: “God . . . giveth grace to the humble,”
and He makes them humble in order to fill them to overflowing.

All we have just said shows the profound truth of St.
Thomas’ words: “The love of God is unitive
(congregativus), inasmuch as it draws man’s affections
from the many to the one; so that the virtues, which flow from the
love of God, are connected together. But self-love disunites
(disgregat) man’s affections among different things, so
far as man loves himself, by desiring for himself temporal goods,
which are various and of many kinds.”1017
The love of God causes the light of reason and that of grace to shine
increasingly in us, whereas sin stains the soul, taking away from it
the brilliance of the divine light.1018
The purification of the spirit removes these stains, which are in our
higher faculties, that they may be resplendent with the true light,
which is the prelude of that of eternity.

Chapter 39: The Effects of the Passive Purification of the Spirit in
Relation Especially to the Three Theological Virtues

Having described and explained the passive
purification of the spirit and pointed out the rules of direction
which should be followed, we shall now set forth its effects on the
soul when borne with generosity.

These effects show the end for which God thus
purifies His servants. He does so that the higher part of the soul
may be supernaturalized and prepared for divine union, as the
sensible part must be spiritualized or wholly subjected to the
spirit. Among these effects some are negative, consisting in the
suppression of defects; others are positive and are profound
especially in the perfection they give to the virtues in the elevated
part of the soul, principally humility and the theological virtues.

NEGATIVE EFFECTS

These effects are visible in the progressive
disappearance of distractions, dullness of spirit, and the need of
external dissipation or of finding consolation. Self-love or subtle
egoism gradually disappears. The result is that the soul is less
subject to illusions, for it lives increasingly by its higher part,
into which the enemy cannot penetrate. God alone penetrates the
innermost depths of the heart and spirit. Doubtless the devil still
multiplies his temptations, but if the soul takes refuge in its
center, where God dwells, the enemy cannot harm it and even cannot
know but can only conjecture what is taking place in it; the intimate
secrets of hearts escape him.1019

This purification removes many other defects in our
relations with our neighbor or in respect to our duties of state: a
certain natural rudeness, which leads to impatience; an a most
unconscious secret ambition, the cause of many disorders and
divisions among people; and also a lack of interest in the
occasionally great needs of our afflicted neighbor who turns to us
for help. It is in this state that those who have the duty of caring
devotedly for others, possess a deeper understanding of Christ’s
words: “The good shepherd giveth his life for his sheep. But
the hireling, and he that is not the shepherd, whose own the sheep
are not, seeth the wolf coming and leaveth the sheep and flieth; and
the wolf catcheth and scattereth the sheep.”1020
To profit by these words, we should ask the Lord to give us an
increase of true zeal, the patient, gentle, disinterested zeal which
draws life from God to give it in greater measure to our neighbor.

In connection with this subject, it should be noted
that there are also at times collective purifications, like
persecutions, from which the soul must know how to draw profit. On
such occasions the heroic degree of the virtues becomes necessary;
one is in the happy necessity of becoming a saint in order not to be
lost. Those who seem fairly good in prosperity are often weak and
cowardly in these great difficulties; others, on the contrary, reveal
their true character on these occasions. These grave moments should
lead us to make the following salutary reflection: true sanctity does
not require a lesser purification in outwardly calm periods than in
periods troubled by persecution. The saints who lived in the calmest
periods of the life of the Church had their interior trials, without
which their souls would not have attained to the perfect purity which
God willed to see in them.

In no period, however calm it may be, can anyone
become a saint without carrying his cross, without being configured
to Christ crucified. In troubled times, however, man often faces the
urgent necessity of sanctifying himself completely in order not to
lose his soul; he must then be heroically faithful in order not to
fall back. In other calmer periods, this urgent necessity does not
make itself thus felt, but even then, carrying his cross he must
follow our Lord. Nothing unclean can enter heaven; one must be
purified either before death, like the martyrs, or after it, like the
souls in purgatory.

Lastly, there are other collective trials which
demand great uprightness of will: for example, when in the society in
which we live some exceptional event occurs that obliges us, though
at the cost of great sacrifices, to declare ourselves for God. Such
events are visits from the Lord; in them are distinguished His true
servants, who, instead of being merely good, must become excellent.
With this meaning, the aged Simeon said of the coming of the Child
Jesus into the world: “Behold this Child is set for the fall
and for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which
shall be contradicted; . . . that out of many hearts thoughts may be
revealed.”1021
In other words, Christ, who had come for the salvation of all, was to
be an occasion of fall for many. Refusing to recognize the Savior in
Him, they have fallen into infidelity. Thus the secret thoughts of
the Pharisees were revealed, whereas they would have remained partly
hidden had the Pharisees lived two centuries earlier. Something
similar occurs when there is a great supernatural event, like the
apparitions of the Blessed Virgin at Lourdes, an event about which
the good and the bad are divided. There is, as Pascal says,
sufficient light for those who wish to see and sufficient obscurity
for those who do not wish to see. These great events, persecutions,
or exceptional visits of the Lord, on the occasion of which the good
and the tepid are profoundly divided, throw light on what we are
saying here of the passive purification of the soul. In periods when
the life of society is not marked by anything exceptionally bad or
good, no less a purification is needed to reach sanctity than in
periods of social upheaval.

In regard to the visits of the Lord, we must also
remember that they often differ appreciably. There are visits of
consolation, like the apparitions of Lourdes; but if people do not
profit by them, the Lord comes to chastise; and if they do not profit
by this divine correction, He may come to condemn.1022

All that we have said shows what profit we should
reap from the trials which the Lord sends us, particularly in this
prolonged period of spiritual aridity of which we are speaking. If we
bear it generously, many defects, which arrest the growth of the
divine life in us, will be uprooted forever. Conquered self-love will
then give place to the true love of God, to zeal for His glory and
the salvation of souls.

THE POSITIVE EFFECTS OF
THIS PURIFICATION

The positive effects of the dark night of the soul
consist chiefly in a great increase in the virtues of the elevated
part of the soul, principally in humility, piety, and the theological
virtues. These higher virtues come forth greatly purified from all
human alloy, in the sense that their formal supernatural motive is
brought into strong relief above every secondary or accessory motive
which sometimes leads man to practice them in too human a manner.1023
At this stage especially the formal motive of each of the three
theological virtues stands out with increasing clearness: namely, the
first revealing truth, the motive of faith; helpful omnipotence, the
motive of hope; the divine goodness infinitely more lovable in itself
than every created gift, the motive of charity.

But there is first a similar purification of
humility. Humility is commonly said to be the fundamental virtue
which removes pride, the source of every sin. St. Augustine and St.
Thomas for this reason compare it to the excavation that must be dug
for the construction of a building, an excavation that needs to be so
much deeper as the building is to be higher. Consequently, to deepen
humility it does not suffice to scratch the soil a little, it is not
sufficient that we ourselves dig, as we do in a thorough examination
of conscience. To drive out pride, the Lord Himself must intervene
through the special inspirations of the gifts of knowledge and
understanding. He then shows the soul the hitherto unsuspected degree
of its profound indigence and wretchedness and throws light on the
hidden folds of conscience in which lie the seeds of death. Thus a
ray of sunlight shining into a dark room shows all the dust, held in
suspension in the air and previously imperceptible. Under the
purifying divine light, as under a powerful projector, the soul sees
in itself a multitude of defects it had never noticed; confounded by
the sight, it cannot bear this light. It sees at times that by its
repeated sins it has placed itself in a miserable state, a state of
abjection. St. Paul, strongly tempted, felt his frailty keenly.
Blessed Angela of Foligno seemed to herself an abyss of sin and
wished to declare her state to everyone. St. Benedict Joseph Labre
one day began his confession by saying: “Have pity on me,
Father, I am a great sinner.” The confessor, finding nothing
seriously reprehensible in his accusation, said to him: “I see
that you do not know how to go to confession.” He then
questioned the saint on the grossest sins, but obtained such humble
answers so full of the spirit of faith, that he understood that his
penitent, who confessed in this manner, was a saint.

Such is indeed the purification of humility, which is
no longer only exterior, no longer the pouting or sad humility of one
who holds aloof because people do not approve of him. It becomes true
humility of heart, which loves to be nothing that God may be all; it
bows profoundly before the infinite majesty of the Most High and
before what is divine in every creature.

This true humility then reveals to us the profound
meaning of Christ’s words: “Without Me you can do
nothing.” It enables us to understand far better what St. Paul
says: “What hast thou that thou hast not received? And if thou
hast received, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received
it?”1024
The soul then recognizes experimentally that by its natural powers
alone it is absolutely incapable of the least salutary and
meritorious supernatural act. It sees the grandeur of the doctrine of
the Church which teaches, against semi-Pelagianism, that the
beginning of salvation, the beginning of salutary good will, can come
only from grace, and that man needs a special gift to persevere to
the end. The soul thus purified sees why, according to St. Augustine,
St. Thomas, and their disciples, grace is efficacious of itself; far
from being rendered efficacious by our good consent, it is grace that
gives rise to our consent, it is truly “God who worketh in you,
both to will an to accomplish,” as St. Paul says.1025
In this period of painful purification, at grips with strong
temptations to discouragement, the soul indeed needs to believe in
this divine efficacy of grace, which lifts up the weak man, makes him
fulfill the precepts, and transforms him.1026

Thus humility grows, according to the seven degrees
enumerated by St. Anselm: “(1) to acknowledge ourselves
contemptible;(2) to grieve on account of this;(3) to admit that we
are so;(4) to wish our neighbor to believe it;(5) to endure with
patience people saying it;(6) to be willing to be treated as a person
worthy of contempt;(7) to love to be treated in this way,”1027
and, like St. Francis of Assisi, to find a holy joy in this
treatment. This is, in fact, heroic humility. Such virtue presupposes
a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost and the passive purification
of the spirit. Besides, it is clearly in the normal way of sanctity;
full Christian perfection cannot exist without it. As a matter of
fact, all the saints possessed great humility; it presupposes the
contemplation of two great truths: we have been created out of
nothing by God, who freely preserves us in existence; and without the
help of His grace we could not perform any salutary and meritorious
act.

The soul then attains a quasi-experiential knowledge
of the gratuity and efficacy of grace, without which it would not
advance, but would certainly fall back. Humility thus purified tells
the glory of God more than do the stars in the heavens.

In this stage there is a similar purification of true
piety, or the virtue of religion toward God. Substantial devotion,
the promptness of the will in the service of the Lord, should, in
fact, subsist here in spite of the absence of sensible devotion and
spiritual consolation over a period of months and sometimes of years.
The inspirations of the gift of piety then come greatly to the aid of
the virtue of religion, bestowing on the soul perseverance in prayer
in spite of the greatest spiritual aridity.1028
The fruit of this deep piety is meekness, which corresponds, says St.
Augustine, to the beatitude of the meek.

THE PURIFICATION OF FAITH

Just as our Lord Himself teaches His friends to
become meek and humble of heart, He also purifies their faith from
all alloy.1029

Faith is an infused virtue by which we believe firmly
all that God has revealed, because He has revealed it and as the
Church proposes it. All the faithful doubtless believe in what God
has revealed, but many live very little by the supernatural mysteries
which are the principal object of faith. They think more often of the
truths of religion that reason can attain—the existence of God,
His Providence, the immortality of the soul—or they go no
farther than the outward, sensible aspect of Christian worship. Often
our faith is still too weak to make us truly live by the mysteries of
the Blessed Trinity, the Incarnation, the redemption, the Eucharist,
the indwelling of the Holy Ghost in our souls. These are holy
formulas, often repeated with veneration, but they are pale and
lifeless, and their object is, as it were, lost in the depths of the
heavens. These supernatural mysteries have not sufficiently become
for us the light of life, the orientation point of our judgments, the
habitual norm of our thoughts.

Likewise, the motive for our belief in these
mysteries is undoubtedly the fact that God has revealed them, but we
dwell excessively on several secondary motives which aid us: first,
these mysteries are the rather generally accepted belief of our
family and our country; next, we see a certain harmony between
supernatural dogmas and the natural truths accessible to reason;
lastly, we have some slight experience of God’s action in our
souls, and this helps us to believe.

But let us suppose that God were suddenly to take
away from us all these secondary motives which facilitate the act of
faith and on which we perhaps dwell too much. Let us suppose that in
spiritual aridity prolonged for months and years, we no longer
experience in ourselves the consoling action of God and no longer see
the harmony between supernatural mysteries and natural truths; then
the act of faith will become difficult for us. This is true
especially if the purifying divine light illumines in these mysteries
what is loftiest and apparently least conformable to reason: for
example, infinite justice on the one hand, and the gratuity of
predestination on the other. Besides, in this trial the devil seeks
to make our judgment deviate, to show us that there is severity in
inexorable divine justice, as if the damned sought pardon without
being able to obtain it, whereas in reality they never ask pardon.
The enemy seeks also to make us interpret the judgments of the divine
good pleasure as arbitrary, despotic, and capricious, adding that an
infinitely good and omnipotent God could not permit all the evil that
happens in the world; the evil spirit increases this evil in order to
draw an additional objection from it. He sounds a false note to
trouble the superior harmony of the mysteries of faith. At times he
wishes to persuade the soul that there is nothing after death, and he
puts forth every effort to give this negation the appearance of an
icy evidence which imposes itself absolutely.1030

The question may then be put under the form of a
temptation against faith: Does the supernatural world exist? The soul
finds itself between two opposing influences: that of the purifying
divine light which casts the intellect into the unsuspected depths of
mysteries, as if one were thrown into the sea before knowing how to
swim; and on the other hand, the influence of the devil, who tries to
cause the effect of the divine light to deviate.

In order to believe, there is left only this sole
motive: God has revealed it; every secondary motive has momentarily
disappeared. The soul should then ask for the actual grace that
enables it to make the act of faith; the grace that makes it
overcome, rise above the temptation, instead of reasoning against it;
the grace that makes it adhere to the divine revealing Truth: to the
authority of God revealing, above the excessively superficial and
narrow conceptions it had of the divine perfections.1031
Then the soul gradually “finds shelter in the immutable,”
in the first Truth, in the uncreated and revealing word, which makes
it clearly understand that infinite justice is free from any cruelty,
that it is identical in God with the most tender mercy. It also makes
the soul see distinctly that, far from being capricious, the divine
good pleasure is infinitely wise, and that the divine permission of
the greatest evils is holy, for it has in view a higher good of which
God alone is the judge and which the soul shall one day contemplate.
This superior good is at times dimly seen on earth in the night of
the spirit.1032

Faith is then purified from all alloy and no longer
dwells on secondary motives which facilitated its act; they have
momentarily disappeared. It no longer dwells on the sensible aspect
of the mysteries of the Incarnation, the redemption, the Eucharist;
it enters into the depths of divine revelation.

Thus the faith of the apostles was purified during
the painful trial of the Passion, in which Jesus, whom three of them
had contemplated on Tabor, appeared humiliated and crushed. They had
to believe that in spite of this annihilation He was the Son of God
made flesh, who would rise on the third day. The Blessed Virgin, St.
John, and Magdalen remained firm in faith on Calvary. Likewise after
the Ascension, the apostles, henceforth deprived of the sight of the
risen Christ, had to live in the obscurity of faith; from Pentecost
on, they preached this faith with the most absolute certitude, even
to martyrdom.

The saints have known the same kind of trials. St.
Vincent de Paul was tormented for four years by a temptation against
faith. For ten years Blessed Henry Suso had a similar temptation.

At the end of such a trial, faith is considerably
increased, tenfold and even more. The night of the spirit then
becomes a starlit night in which one sees dimly the depths of the
firmament; that this might be so, the sun had to hide. To glimpse the
splendor of supernatural mysteries, reason must have made its
sacrifice; it must have renounced seeing by its own light, and must
have humbly received the divine light. Similarly, if he is deeply
Christian, a deposed king, like Louis XVI, glimpses at the moment of
his trial the beauty of the kingdom of God, which is infinitely
superior to every earthly kingdom.

At the end of this purification, the soul is deeply
convinced that the only reality that counts is supernatural life, and
it then asks itself whether it will be able to persevere in this
life. At this stage the effects of the purification of hope begin to
make themselves felt. This is the third conversion, where we find
again, as in the first, the acts of the three theological virtues,
but in a far superior manner.1033
The Lord plows the same furrow more deeply that the seed placed in
the earth may produce not only ten or thirtyfold, but even sixty and
a hundredfold, as we read in the Gospel.1034

At this time there begins in the soul a more intimate
contemplation of God, which tends to become continuous and like an
uninterrupted conversation with Him. Then one grasps increasingly
better what is said in the Book of Wisdom about the value of wisdom
itself: “I preferred her before kingdoms and thrones, and
esteemed riches nothing in comparison of her. Neither did I compare
unto her any precious stone: for all gold in comparison of her is as
a little sand, and silver in respect to her shall be counted as
clay.”1035
This wisdom is the “pearl of great price” mentioned in
the Gospel; a man sells all that he has to buy it.1036

THE PURIFICATION OF HOPE

After the effects of the purification of faith, the
purification of hope begins to make itself felt. The soul, now
convinced that the one thing necessary is sanctification and
salvation, asks itself at times whether, in the midst of the great
difficulties it is in, it will persevere to the end.

Hope is the theological virtue by which we tend
toward God, as toward our beatitude, relying, in order to reach Him,
on His mercy and His helpful omnipotence. The first object of hope is
God to be possessed eternally; the formal motive of this theological
virtue is God our Helper,Deus auxilians, as the formal motive
of faith is God revealing: Veritas prima revelans.

Every good Christian has this infused virtue, united
to charity; and it is indeed God whom he hopes for when he asks for
the grace necessary for salvation. But often our hope lacks
elevation, in the sense that we excessively desire certain temporal
goods, which may seem useful to us for our salvation and yet are not.
We may even too greatly desire certain human goods which would be
harmful to us and would impede the higher goods that come from
detachment and humility. From this point of view, our hope lacks
life; it does not rise directly enough toward God.

Moreover, there is often some alloy in the motive
inspiring our hope. Doubtless we count on the help of God, but we
also rely, and occasionally too much so, on inferior motives that are
much less sure. We may have too much confidence in ourselves, in our
tact, energy, virtues, in various human helps within our reach, just
as we may pass through moments of discouragement when we do not
succeed and human helps fail us.

If God, wishing to purify our hope of all alloy,
should suddenly take away from us the temporal goods which we hope
for and also the secondary motives which sustain our trust,—the
sympathy and help of our friends, the encouragement and esteem of
superiors if at the same time He should show us our frailty in a
hitherto unsuspected degree, if He were to permit calumnies,
tenacious contradictions against us, and, with all of that, illness,
would we still hope “against all human hope” for this
sole motive, that no matter what happens God remains infinitely
helpful?

This is the time to say: “The Lord is
compassionate and merciful, long suffering, and plenteous in mercy”;1037
“God never commands the impossible”;1038
He never permits us to be tempted above our strength, aided by
grace.1039
The divine help is always offered to us for salvation; God does not
abandon us unless we first abandon Him; He is always willing to raise
us up from our sins when we cry to Him.

Speaking through Isaias, the Lord says: “For
the mountains shall be moved, and the hills shall tremble; but My
mercy shall not depart from thee, and the covenant of My peace shall
hot be moved: said the Lord that hath mercy on thee.”1040

The Psalmist writes: “For He hath hidden me in
His tabernacle; in the day of evils, He hath protected me in the
secret place of His tabernacle. He hath exalted me upon a rock. . . .
Thy face, O Lord, will I still seek. . . . Be Thou my helper, forsake
me not; do not Thou despise me, O God my Savior. For my father and my
mother have left me; but the Lord hath taken me up.”1041

The saints hoped thus in the hours of their great
trials. In his Lamentations, Jeremias lets the following cry of
anguish escape: “My end and my hope is perished from the Lord,”
but immediately after he cries out: “Remember my poverty, and
transgression, the wormwood and the gall. . . . The mercies of the
Lord that we are not consumed: because His commiserations have not
failed . . . For the Lord will not cast off forever. For if He hath
cast off, He will also have mercy, according to the multitude of His
mercies. For He hath not willingly afflicted, nor cast off the
children of men.”1042

In his prison St. John the Baptist hoped in this
manner when he saw all that was opposed to the kingdom of God, whose
coming he had announced. So too the apostles remained firm even to
martyrdom. We find another example of heroic hope in St. John of the
Cross, who continued to hope in his prison cell when all seemed
leagued against the reform of Carmel. In the same way St. Alphonsus
Liguori heroically placed his trust in God when the religious family
that he had founded seemed on the point of perishing. At times the
sacrifice of Isaac is again demanded of the true servants of God,
that they may labor at the task entrusted to them, no longer as if it
were theirs, but as the work of Almighty God, who can overcome all
obstacles and who will infallibly overcome them if He has decreed
from all eternity that the work in question should be established.

Then, above every inferior motive of trust, will
increasingly appear the formal motive of Christian hope: Deus
auxilians, God our Helper, His helpful omnipotence, and the
infinite merits of Christ; and the soul will be moved to utter the
prayer of Esther: “O my Lord, who alone art our King, help me a
desolate woman, and who have no other helper but Thee. My danger is
in my hands. . . . Give not, O Lord, Thy scepter to them that are
not. . . . Remember, O Lord, and show Thyself to us in the time of
our tribulation, and give me boldness. . . . O God, who art mighty
above, all hear the voice of them that have no other hope, and
deliver us from the hand of the wicked, and deliver me from my
fear.”1043

Hope is here transformed into perfect abandonment,
whether in regard to a divine work to be accomplished on earth or to
our eternal salvation. This trusting abandonment rests on the divine
will not yet manifested; but that it may rest on it in this way,
presupposes constant fidelity to the divine will already signified by
the duty of the present moment. The more our will conforms through
obedience to the signified divine will, the more it can abandon
itself with confidence to the divine will of good pleasure not yet
manifested, on which our future and eternity depend. The same holds
true for the dying, and should be kept in mind when we are assisting
them in their agony. We should beg God to grant them this trust,
united to perfect abandonment, that, being conformed to His signified
divine will, they may with more perfect trust accept death, that leap
into the unknown, which is nothing else than abandonment to the
divine good pleasure not yet manifested. In this way the soul rises
above the obscurity from beneath, which comes from matter, error, and
sin, that it may lose itself in the obscurity from on high, which is
that of the intimate life of God and of His love for each of us.1044

At the end of this purification of hope, this virtue
is freed from self-love which mingled in it, from the more or less
inordinate desire of consolation, and it becomes much stronger in its
purity. Hope is the desire for God, to possess Him Himself, above His
gifts; and yet God does not show Himself, does not make His presence
felt. At this time the soul begins to experience the effect of the
passive purification of charity.

THE PURIFICATION OF
CHARITY

At this stage particularly, the passive purifications
of the present life resemble those of purgatory, although they differ
greatly from it, since in purgatory there is no longer any merit or
increase of charity.

This theological virtue, the highest of the infused
virtues, is that which makes us love God for Himself, because He is
infinitely lovable in Himself, infinitely better than every creature
and than all His gifts. It makes us love Him also because He first
loved us, by communicating to us a participation in His intimate
life. Charity is thus a holy friendship by which we give back to God
the love He has for us, and by which also we love our neighbor
inasmuch as he is loved by God, inasmuch as he is a child of God or
called to become one.

Every good Christian undoubtedly has this virtue. By
it we love God for Himself; but we also love Him for the consolations
He gives us, because He makes Himself felt by us, because what we
undertake for Him succeeds and gives us contentment. Likewise, we
love our neighbor for the love of God, because he is loved by our
common Father; but we also love him because he responds to our
charity, our courtesies, our devotion, because he gives evidence of
gratitude. And at times when, instead of gratitude, we see
ingratitude, we do not love the soul of our seemingly ungrateful
neighbor as we should, for, as a matter of fact, we should love even
our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, that they may return
to the road of salvation. Consequently there is some alloy in our
charity. This base element is evident occasionally when our charity
fails to overcome some bitterness or ill-temper, following on a want
of consideration.

Therefore, when the Lord wishes to lead a soul,
already possessed of great hope, to a more pure, more disinterested
love of God for Himself, above all His gifts, He deprives it of all
spiritual consolation, of His sensible presence, for months and
years, though He becomes more intimately present in the soul and acts
more profoundly in it. He seems to withdraw from it, as God the
Father seemed to withdraw from the soul of Jesus on the cross when in
His agony He cried out: “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken
Me?”1045
This exclamation, taken from a Messianic psalm,1046
is immediately followed in the same psalm, as it was in the heart of
Christ, by sentiments of perfect trust, abandonment, and love.

When in this spiritual night the soul seems to be
abandoned by God, it makes a great act of love for this sole and most
pure motive: God is infinitely good in Himself, infinitely better
than every created gift, and it is He who first loved us. Following
the example of His crucified Son, I must return Him love for love.

St. Teresa of the Child Jesus was well acquainted
with these very painful hours, and what we learn about them in her
life helps us to a clearer understanding of the doctrine of St. John
of the Cross on the purification of love, and of St. Thomas’
teaching on the formal motive of charity. At this stage of the
spiritual life, this motive ap­pears in all its elevation, like a
star of first magnitude in the night of the spirit, together with the
motive of faith and that of hope.

We read, in fact, toward the end of the life of St.
Teresa of the Child Jesus:

My soul has
known many kinds of trials. I have suffered greatly here on earth. In
my childhood, I suffered with sadness; today, in peace and joy I
taste all bitter fruits. . . . During the luminous days of the
paschal season last year, Jesus made me understand that there are
really impious souls without faith and hope (which I found it hard to
believe). He then allowed my soul to be invaded by the thickest
darkness, and the thought of heaven, which had been so sweet to me
since my early childhood, to become for me a subject for struggle and
torment. The duration of this trial was not limited to a few days, a
few weeks; I have been suffering for months and I am still waiting
for the hour of my deliverance. I wish I could express what I feel,
but it is impossible. One must have passed through this dark tunnel
to understand its obscurity. . . .

Lord, Thy
child has understood Thy divine light which shines in the darkness.
She begs Thee to pardon her unbelieving brethren, and is willing to
eat the bread of suffering as long as Thou mayest wish. For love of
Thee she takes her place at this table filled with bitterness where
poor sinners take their food, and she does not wish to rise from it
before receiving a sign from Thy hand. But may she not say in her own
name and in the name of her guilty brethren: “O God, be
merciful to us sinners”?1047
Send us away justified. May all those who are not enlightened by the
torch of faith at last see it shine. . . . When, weary of the
surrounding darkness, I wish to rest my heart by the fortifying
memory of a future and eternal life, my torment redoubles. It seems
to me that the shadows, borrowing the voice of the impious mockingly
say to me: “You dream of light, of a sweet-scented country, you
dream of the eternal possession of the Creator of these marvels; you
believe that you will one day emerge from the mists in which you
languish. Forward! Forward! Rejoice in death, which will give you,
not what you hope for, but a still darker night, the night of
nothingness. . . .”

Knowing
that it is cowardly to fight a duel, I turn my back on my adversary
without ever looking him in the face; then I run to Jesus and tell
Him that I am ready to shed every drop of my blood to acknowledge
that there is a heaven. I tell Him that I am happy not to be able to
contemplate here on earth with the eyes of my soul the beautiful
heaven which awaits me, in order that He may deign to open it for
eternity to poor unbelievers.

Consequently,
in spite of this trial which takes from me every feeling of
enjoyment, I can still cry out: “Thou hast given me, O Lord, a
delight in Thy doings.”1048
For what joy can be greater than that of suffering for Thy love? The
more intense the suffering is and the less it appears to men, the
more it causes Thee to smile, O my God. . . . May I prevent or make
reparation for a single sin committed against faith. . . .

When I sing
of the happiness of heaven, of the eternal possession of God, I do
not experience any joy, for I sing simply what I will to believe. At
times, I admit, a very tiny ray of light illumines my dark night,
then the trial ceases for a moment; but afterward, the memory of this
ray, instead of consoling me, makes my darkness thicker still.

I have
never felt so fully that the Lord is sweet and merciful. He did not
send me this heavy cross until I was able to bear it; formerly, I
believe that it would have cast me into discouragement. Now it
produces only one effect: it takes from me every feeling of natural
satisfaction in my longing for heaven.1049

Such is the simultaneous passive purification of
faith, hope, and love of God and of souls in God, a purification
which, in the case of St. Teresa of the Child Jesus, is united to
reparatory suffering for sinners.

Then the most pure motive of this love of charity
appears in all its elevation: namely, that God is sovereignly lovable
in Himself, infinitely more so than all the gifts which He has given
us and which we expect from Him. Here the acts of faith, hope, and
charity fuse, so to speak, in an act of perfect abandonment to the
divine will, while the soul repeats the words of Christ on the cross:
“Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.”1050

Then the soul understands what St. John of the Cross
says: “For this is a certain fire of love in the spirit whereby
the soul, amidst these dark trials, feels itself wounded to the quick
by this strong love divine. . . . And inasmuch as this love is
infused in a special way, the soul corresponds only passively with
it, and thus a strong passion of love is begotten within it. . . .
The soul is itself touched, wounded, and set on fire with love. . . .
The soul, however, amidst these gloomy and loving pains, is conscious
of a certain companionship and inward strength which attends upon it
and invigorates it.”1051

St. Teresa speaks in like manner of this last
purification which precedes the transforming union: “She sees
herself still far away from God, yet with her increased knowledge of
His attributes, her longing and her love for Him grow ever stronger
as she learns more fully how this great God and Sovereign deserves to
be loved. . . . She is like one suspended in mid-air, who can neither
touch the earth nor mount to heaven; she is unable to reach the water
while parched with thirst, and this is not a thirst that can be
borne, but one which nothing will quench.”1052

At the end of this trial, charity toward God and
one’s neighbor is purified of all alloy, as gold in the
crucible is freed from its dross. And not only is the love of charity
thus purified, but notably increased. The soul now makes intense and
heroic acts of charity, which obtain immediately the increase of
grace which they merit, and with sanctifying grace increase greatly
at the same time all the infused virtues and the seven gifts of the
Holy Ghost, which are connected with charity.

The love of God and of souls then becomes
increasingly disinterested, ever more ardent and forgetful of self.
We admire the purity of the conjugal love of the sailor’s wife
who does not cease to think of her absent husband, who may be dead,
since for several months she has had no word that he is still alive.
She loves him as if he were present, and brings up her children in
the love of their father who has disappeared. How can we fail to
admire the purity of love in these spouses of Jesus Christ who, like
St. Teresa of Lisieux, remain for a long time, for months and months,
deprived of His presence, in the greatest darkness and aridity, and
who do not cease to love Him with a love as strong as it is pure, for
the sole motive that He is infinitely good in Himself and
incomparably more so than all His gifts! In this state the tenderness
of love is transformed into the strength of union, according to the
expression of the Canticle of Canticles: “Love is strong as
death,”1053
and even stronger, for no trial can overthrow love. The soul then
remembers that in our Lord, who fashions souls to His image, love on
the cross was stronger than spiritual death, that it was the
conqueror of sin and the devil, and by the resurrection the victor
over death which is the result of sin. In the passive purifications,
described by St. John of the Cross, the Christian and Catholic mystic
relives these great truths of faith; thereby the soul is configured
to Christ in His sorrowful life, before being configured to Him in
His glorious life for eternity.

SUFFERINGS THAT SOMETIMES
ACCOMPANY THE PASSIVE PURIFICATION OF THE SPIRIT

St. Teresa1054
speaks of this purification, but does not distinguish as clearly as
St. John of the Cross does, what essentially constitutes it from the
sufferings which quite often accompany it, and which she herself
experienced, as we see from her autobiography.1055

In The Interior Castle she writes:

O my God,
how many troubles both interior and exterior must one suffer before
entering the seventh mansion! Sometimes, while pondering over this I
fear that, were they known beforehand, human infirmity could scarcely
bear the thought nor resolve to encounter them, however great might
appear the gain. . . . They really seem to have lost everything.

I shall not
enumerate these trials in their proper order, but will describe them
as they come to my memory, beginning with the least severe. This is
an outcry raised against such a person by those amongst whom she
lives. . . . They say she wants to pass for a saint, that she goes to
extremes in piety to deceive the world. . . . Persons she thought
were her friends desert her, making the most bitter remarks of all.
They take it much to heart that her soul is ruined—she is
manifestly deluded—it is all the devil’s work—she
will share the fate of so-and-so who was lost through him. . . . They
make a thousand scoffing remarks of the same sort.

I know
someone who feared she would be unable to find any priest who would
hear her confession,1056
to such a pass did things come. . . . The worst of it is, these
troubles do not blow over but last all her life. . . . How few think
well of her in comparison with the many who hate her! . . .
Experience has shown the mind that men are as ready to speak well as
ill of others, so it attaches no more importance to the one than to
the other. . . . [Later] the soul is rather strengthened than
depressed by its trials, experience having taught it the great
advantages derived from them. It does not think men offend God by
persecuting it, but that He permits them to do so for its greater
gain. . . .

Our Lord
now usually sends severe bodily infirmity. . . . Yet, oh! the rest
would seem trifling in comparison could I relate the interior
torments met with here, but they are impossible to describe. Let us
first speak of the trial of meeting with so timorous and
inexperienced a confessor that nothing seems safe to him; he dreads
and suspects everything but the commonplace, especially in a soul in
which he detects any imperfection, for he thinks people on whom God
bestows such favors must be angels, which is impossible while we live
in our bodies. He at once ascribes everything to the devil or
melancholy. . . .

One of the
severe trials of these souls, especially if they have lived wicked
lives, is their belief that God permits them to be deceived in
punishment for their sins. While actually receiving these graces they
feel secure and cannot but suppose that these favors proceed from the
Spirit of God; but this state lasts a very short time, while the
remembrance of their misdeeds is ever before them, so that when, as
is sure to happen, they discover any faults in themselves, these
torturing thoughts return. The soul is quieted for a time when the
confessor reassures it, although it returns later on to its former
apprehensions; but when he augments its fears they become almost
unbearable: Especially is this the case when such spiritual dryness
ensues that the mind feels as if it never had thought of God nor ever
will be able to do so. When men speak of Him, they seem to be talking
of some person heard of long ago.

All this is
nothing without the further pain of thinking we cannot make our
confessors understand the case and are deceiving them . . . She
believes all that the imagination, which now has the upper hand, puts
before her mind, besides crediting the falsehoods suggested to her by
the devil, whom doubtless our Lord gives leave to tempt her. . . .

In short,
there is no other remedy in such a tempest except to wait for the
mercy of God who, unexpectedly, by some casual word or unforeseen
circumstance, suddenly dispels all these sorrows. . . . It praises
our Lord God like one who has come out victorious from a dangerous
battle, for it was He who won the victory. The soul is fully
conscious that the conquest was not its own as all weapons of
self-defence appeared to be in the enemies’ hands. Thus it
realizes its weakness and how little man can help himself if God
forsake him.1057

Tauler speaks in like strain, as we noted earlier.
His teaching on this subject, which should be read, will be found in
his sermons for the Monday before Palm Sunday (nos. 7, 8), for Easter
Sunday, for the Monday before Ascension Thursday, and in the third
sermon for the Ascension.1058

It would be easy to show by quotations from other
masters that the teaching of St. John of the Cross is entirely
conformable to the tradition of the great spiritual writers, to what
they have said of the royal way of the cross, ad lucem per crucem,
and of the progressive configuration of the soul to Christ crucified.
We read in St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans:1059
“Heirs indeed of God, and joint heirs with Christ: yet so, if
we suffer with Him, that we may be also glorified with Him.”

Chapter 40: The Spiritual Age of the Perfect, Their Union with God

The painful passive purification just described is
followed by a resurrection of the soul and a new life. The apostles
experienced this change when, after being deprived of the presence of
Christ’s humanity on Ascension Day, they were on Pentecost
transformed, enlightened, strengthened, and confirmed in grace by the
Holy Ghost that they might preach the Gospel to the ends of the known
world and seal their preaching with their blood.

We shall point out here the principal signs of the
age of the perfect so far as it is distinguished from the age of
beginners and that of proficients. We shall indicate particularly
what characterizes the knowledge of God and of self in the perfect
and also their love of charity.

QUASI-EXPERIMENTAL AND
ALMOST CONTINUAL KNOWLEDGE OF GOD

After the passive purification of the spirit, which
is like a third conversion and transformation, the perfect know God
in a quasi­experimental manner that is not transitory, but almost
continual. Not only during Mass, the Divine Office, or prayer, but in
the midst of external occupations, they remain in the presence of God
and preserve actual union with Him.

The matter will be easily understood by our
considering the egoist’s contrary state of soul. The egoist
thinks always of himself and, without realizing it, refers everything
to himself. He talks continually with himself about his inordinate
desires, sorrows, or superficial joys; his intimate conversation with
himself is endless, but it is vain, sterile, and unproductive for
all. The perfect man, on the contrary, instead of thinking always of
himself, thinks continually of God, His glory, and the salvation of
souls; he instinctively makes everything converge toward the object
of his thoughts. His intimate conversation is no longer with himself,
but with God, and the words of the Gospel frequently recur to his
mind to enlighten from on high the smallest pleasurable or painful
facts of daily life. His soul sings the glory of God, and from it
radiate spiritual light and fervor, which are perpetually bestowed on
him from above.

The reason for this state is that the perfect man,
unlike the beginner, no longer contemplates God only in the mirror of
sensible things or of the Gospel parables, about which it is
impossible to think continually. Neither does he, like the
proficient, contemplate God only in the mirror of the mysteries of
the life of Christ, a prayer that cannot last all day long; but, in
the penumbra of faith, he contemplates the divine goodness itself, a
little as we see the diffused light that always surrounds us and
illumines everything from above.

According to the terms used by Dionysius the Mystic
and preserved by St. Thomas,1060
this is the movement of circular contemplation, superior to the
straight and the oblique movements. The straight movement, like the
flight of the lark, rises from a sensible fact recalled in a parable
to a divine perfection, from the sight of the prodigal son to
infinite mercy. The oblique movement rises, for example, from the
mysteries of the childhood of Christ to those of His passion, of His
glory, and finally to the infinite love of God for us. The circular
movement is similar to the flight of the eagle, which, after soaring
aloft, delights in describing the same circle several times, then
hovers seemingly motionless in the light of the sun, scrutinizing the
depths of the horizon.

Here it is a question of a knowledge of the radiating
goodness of God. The soul sees now in a quasi-experimental manner
that everything God has done in the order of nature and that of grace
is intended to manifest His goodness, and that if He permits evil,
like a dissonance, it is for a higher good, which is glimpsed at
times and which will appear on the last day.

This contemplation, by reason of its superior
simplicity, may be continual and, far from hindering us from
beholding the sequence of events, lets us see them from above,
somewhat as God sees them as a man on a mountain sees what is
happening on the plain below. It is like the prelude or the aurora of
the vision of the fatherland, although the soul is still in the
obscurity of faith.

This very simple supernatural view even on earth was
continual in Mary, to a lesser degree in St. Joseph. It also enabled
the apostles after Pentecost, to see in the divine light what they
were to do for the preaching of the Gospel and the constitution of
the first churches.

This all-embracing spiritual gaze is to be found in
all the saints; it does not exclude significant details, but
admirably perceives their profound meaning. At the same time it
removes the imperfections springing from natural haste, unconscious
self-seeking, and the lack of habitual recollection.

As a consequence the perfect know themselves, no
longer only in themselves but in God, their beginning and end. In Him
they see their indigence, the infinite distance separating them from
the Creator; they feel themselves preserved in being by His
sovereignly free love. They ceaselessly experience to what a degree
they need His grace for the least salutary act; they do not become
discouraged over their sins, but draw a truer humility from them.
They make their examination of conscience by considering what is
written of their existence in the book of life. They sincerely
consider themselves useless servants, who of themselves can do
nothing, but whom the Lord deigns to use for the accomplishment of
great things, those that prepare the life of eternity. If they see
their neighbor’s sins, they think there is no sin committed by
another which they themselves would not be capable of committing had
they the same heredity and were they placed in the same
circumstances, faced with the same temptations. If they see the great
virtues of other souls, they rejoice in them for the sake of the Lord
and of souls, remembering that in the mystical body of Christ the
growth of one member redounds to the profit of all the others.

This infused contemplation proceeds from a living
faith illumined by the gift of wisdom, which, under the special
inspiration of the Holy Ghost, shows that nothing good happens unless
God wills it, nothing evil unless God permits it for a higher good.
This eminent view may be almost continual by reason of its simplicity
and universality, because the events of daily life fall under its
scope, like lessons about the things of God and like the application
of the Gospel to each one’s life. It is the continuation of the
Gospel which is being written in souls until the end of time.

Then the Christian who has attained to this state has
such knowledge of the divine perfections and of the virtues demanded
of the soul, that he has passed beyond not only the confused concept
but also the distinct concept of the theologian, to the experimental
concept, rich in all the experience of life, which becomes concrete,
enlightening him from above for the good of souls. Thus he attains to
the experiential concept of infinite goodness, as well as to that of
perfect simplicity and true humility, which inclines him to love to
be nothing in order that God may be all.

LOVING GOD WITH ONE’S
WHOLE MIND

The perfect man attains in consequence to that
profound intimacy with the Lord toward which charity or the divine
friendship tends. Such intimacy is truly reciprocal benevolence
together with this convivere, this life shared with another, which is
a prolonged spiritual communion.

As the egoist, who is always thinking of himself,
loves himself badly in every respect, the perfect man, who is almost
always thinking of God, loves Him continually, no longer only by
fleeing from sin, or by imitating the virtues of our Lord, but “by
adhering to Him, by enjoying Him; and, as St. Paul says, he ‘desires
to be dissolved and to be with Christ.’ “1061This
adherence to God is a simple, direct act, which transforms a man’s
fundamental will and is at the basis of discursive and reflective
acts. This adherence to God loved above all, not only as another self
but more than self, contains the solution of the problem of the pure
love of God harmonized with a legitimate love of self, for indeed the
perfect man loves himself in God while loving God more than himself,
and he desires heaven less for his personal happiness than that he
may eternally glorify the divine goodness, the source of every
created good. He tends more toward God Himself than toward the joy
that will come to him from God.1062
This is pure love of God and of souls in God; it is apostolic zeal
more ardent than ever, but humble, patient, and meek.

Here the soul grasps the profound meaning of the
gradation contained in the statement of the precept of love according
to Deuteronomy (6: 5) and St. Luke (10: 1. 7 ): “Thou shalt
love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and with thy whole soul
and with all thy strength and with all thy mind.” The beginner
already loves God with his whole heart, occasionally receiving
sensible consolations in prayer; next he loves God with his whole
soul without consolation, placing all his activities at His service;
later the advanced Christian loves God with all his strength,
particularly in the trials of the night of the spirit; finally, on
emerging from these trials, he loves the Lord with all his mind. The
perfect man no longer rises only at rare intervals to this higher
region of the soul; he is established there; he is spiritualized and
supernaturalized; he has become “an adorer in spirit and in
truth.”

Consequently such souls almost always keep their
peace even in the midst of the most painful and unforeseen
circumstances, and they communicate it frequently to the most
troubled. This is what causes St. Augustine to say that the beatitude
of the peacemakers corresponds to the gift of wisdom, which, with
charity, definitively predominates in the perfect. Their eminent
model, after the holy soul of Christ, is the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Therefore it is evident that the spiritual age of the
perfect is characterized by almost uninterrupted intimate
conversation with God, loved purely above all, together with the
ardent desire of making Him known and loved.

THE INDWELLING OF THE
BLESSED TRINITY IN THE PURIFIED SOUL

Consideration of what characterizes the purified soul
throws light on the nature of the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity
in the perfect soul. In heaven the three divine Persons dwell in the
beatified soul as in a temple where they are clearly known and loved.
The Blessed Trinity is seen openly in the innermost depths of the
beatified soul, which It preserves in existence and in consummated
and inamissible grace. Each of the blessed is thus like a living
tabernacle, like a consecrated host, endowed with supernatural
knowledge and love.

The normal prelude to this life of heaven is realized
on earth in the perfect soul that has reached the transforming union,
which we shall describe farther on, following St. John of the Cross.
Here we wish merely to point out that this close union is not
essentially extraordinary, although very rare; but that it is the
result of the mystery of the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity in
every just soul1063

The life of grace, which is the seed of glory, is
essentially the same as the life of heaven. And since in heaven the
Blessed Trinity is present in the souls of the blessed, where It is
seen without any veil, It must already dwell in the just soul here on
earth in the obscurity of faith, and according as the soul is more
purified, it has a proportionately better experimental knowledge of
this divine presence. As the soul is present to itself and knows
itself experimentally as the principle of its acts, so it is given to
it to know God as the principle of supernatural acts which it could
not produce without His special inspiration.

And the purer the soul is, the more it distinguishes
in itself what comes from itself with the general help of God and
what can come only from the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. Christ
declares: “If anyone love Me, he will keep My word. And My
Father will love him, and We will come to him and will make Our abode
with him.”1064
“But the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send
in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring all things to
your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you.”1065
St. John also says to his disciples: “His unction teacheth you
of all things.”1066
And St. Paul writes to the Romans: “For whosoever are led by
the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For you have not
received the spirit of bondage again in fear; but you have received
the spirit of adoption of sons, whereby we cry: Abba (Father). For
the Spirit Himself giveth testimony to our spirit that we are the
sons of God.”1067
Commenting on these words, St. Thomas says that the Holy Ghost gives
us this testimony by the filial affection He inspires in us for Him.
He thus makes Himself felt at times as the soul of our soul and the
life of our life.

It is especially through the gift of wisdom that we
have the quasi­experimental knowledge of this divine presence. As
St. Thomas explains,1068
this gift makes us, in fact, judge of divine things by a certain
connaturalness with these things, by a sort of supernatural sympathy
based on charity, and by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost who makes
use of this sympathy, which He Himself has aroused to make Himself
felt by us. We thus taste the mysteries of salvation and the presence
of God in us a little as the disciples of Emmaus did when they said:
“Was not our heart burning within us, whilst He spoke in the
way?”1069
What the disciples experienced was a quasi-experimental knowledge,
superior to reasoning, analogous to that which the soul has of itself
as the principle of its acts. God, the Author of grace and salvation,
is closer to us than we are to ourselves, and He inspires in us the
most profound acts to which we could not of ourselves move ourselves.
In this way He makes Himself felt by us as the principle of our
interior life.1070

The term “quasi-experimental” is applied
to this knowledge for two reasons: (1) because it does not attain God
in an absolutely immediate manner, as happens in the beatific vision,
but in the act of filial love which He produces in us;(2) because we
cannot discern with absolute certitude these supernatural acts of
love from the natural impulses of the heart that resemble them. Hence
without a special revelation or an equivalent favor we cannot have
absolute certainty of being in the state of grace.

The indwelling of the Blessed Trinity is permanent as
long as habitual union with God lasts, from the fact of the state of
grace; it is thus that it lasts even during sleep. But this habitual
union is manifestly ordered to the actual union we have just spoken
of, and even to the closest, to the transforming union, the prelude
of that of heaven.

Consequently it is evident that in the purified soul
the supernatural image of God appears more and more.1071
By its nature the soul is already the image of God, since it is a
spiritual substance, capable of intellectual knowledge and love. By
habitual grace, the principle of the theological virtues, the soul is
capable of supernatural knowledge and love of God. The more habitual
grace and charity grow, the more they separate us from what is
inferior and unite us to God. Finally, in heaven, consummated grace
will enable us to see God immediately as He sees Himself and to love
Him as He loves Himself. Then the supernatural image of God in us
will be completed; inamissible charity will render us like the Holy
Ghost, personal Love; the beatific vision will liken us to the Word,
who, being the splendor of the Father, will make us like to Him. We
can thus judge what should be even here on earth that perfect union,
which is the proximate disposition to receive the beatific vision
immediately after death without having to pass through purgatory. It
is the secret of the lives of the saints.1072

THE SIGNS OF THE
INDWELLING OF THE BLESSED TRINITY IN THE PURIFIED SOUL

The signs of this indwelling are set forth at length
by St. Thomas in theContra Gentes,1073
and more briefly in the Summa theologica1074
where he asks whether a man can know if he is in the state of grace.
Without having absolute certitude that he has grace, he has signs
which enable him, for example, to approach the Holy Table without
fear of making a sacrilegious Communion.

The principal signs of the state of grace, in
ascending gradation, are the following.

The first sign is the testimony of a good conscience,
in the sense that he is not conscious of any mortal sin. This is the
fundamental sign, presupposed by the following signs which confirm
it.

A second sign is joy in hearing the word of God
preached, not only for the sake of hearing it, but to put it into
practice. This may be observed in several countries where there is
preserved, together with a simple life, a great Christian faith which
leads the faithful to listen willingly to their pastor when he
explains the great truths of the Gospel.

A third sign, confirming the preceding ones, is the
relish of divine wisdom, which leads a man to read the Gospel
privately, to seek in it the spirit under the letter, to nourish his
soul with it, even when it deals with the mystery of the cross and
with the cross he must bear every day.

A fourth sign is the inclination leading the soul to
converse intimately with God, and faithfully to resume this
conversation when it has been interrupted. We cannot repeat too often
that every man carries on an intimate conversation with himself,
which, at times, is not good. True interior life begins, as we have
often pointed out, when this intimate conversation is no longer only
with self, but with God. St. Thomas says: “Friendship inclines
a man to wish to converse with his friend. The conversation of man
with God is made through the contemplation of God, according to these
words of St. Paul: ‘Our conversation is in heaven’ (Phil.
3: 20). And as the Holy Ghost gives us the love of God, He also
inclines us to contemplate Him. That is why the Apostle also says:
‘But we all beholding the glory of the Lord with open face, are
transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit
of the Lord’” (II Cor. 3: 18).1075

This is one of St. Thomas’ texts which most
clearly shows that in his opinion the infused contemplation of the
mysteries of faith is not something extraordinary, but something
eminent in the normal way of sanctity.

The holy doctor says in the preceding chapter1076
that this intimate conversation with God is like the revelation of
the most secret thoughts, in the sense that nothing in us is hidden
from the Lord and that He Himself recalls to us the portion of the
Gospel that should illumine the duty of every moment. There, says St.
Thomas, we have an effect of friendship, “for it in a way
unites two hearts in one, and what we reveal to a true friend seems
not to have been said outside of ourselves.”1077

A fifth sign is to rejoice in God, fully consenting
to His will even in adversity. Sometimes in the midst of dejection
there is given us a pure and lofty joy which dissipates all sadness.
This is a great sign of the Lord’s visit. Moreover, Jesus, in
promising the Holy Ghost, called Him the Paraclete, or Comforter. And
normally we rejoice so much the more in the Lord as we more perfectly
fulfill His precepts, for by so doing we form increasingly one sole
heart with Him.

A sixth sign is found in the liberty of the children
of God. On this subject, St. Thomas writes: “The children of
God are led by the Holy Ghost, not like slaves, but like free
creatures. . . . The Holy Ghost, in fact, makes us act by inclining
our free will to will, for He gives us to love God and inclines us to
act for love of Him and not through fear in a servile manner. That is
why St. Paul tells us: ‘You have not received the spirit of
bondage again in fear; but you have received the spirit of adoption
of sons, whereby we cry: Abba (Father). For the Spirit Himself giveth
testimony to our spirit, that we are the sons of God.’1078
The Apostle also says: ‘Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there
is liberty’ (II Cor. 3: 17, deliverance from the slavery of
sin, and ‘If by the Spirit you mortify the deeds [and
affections] of the flesh, you shall live’ (Rom. 8: 13)’”1079
This is truly the deliverance or the holy liberty of the children of
God, who reign with Him over inordinate desires, the spirit of the
world, and the spirit of evil.

Lastly, a seventh sign of the indwelling of the
Blessed Trinity in the soul, according to St. Thomas,1080
is that the person speaks of God out of the abundance of his heart.
In this sense is realized what the holy doctor says elsewhere:
“Preaching should spring from the plenitude of the
contemplation of the mysteries of faith.”1081
Thus, from Pentecost on, St. Peter and the apostles preached the
mystery of the redemption; so too, St. Stephen, the first martyr,
preached before being stoned; and likewise St. Dominic, who knew how
to speak only with God or of God. Thus the Holy Ghost appears
increasingly as a source of ever new graces, an unexhausted and
inexhaustible source, “the source of living water springing up
into life eternal,” the source of light and love.

He is, as the saints say, our consolation in the
sorrows of exile. A great hope is left to us in the present world
crisis, for the hand of the Lord is not shortened. The numerous
saints recently canonized evidence the fact that God is always rich
in mercy. These saints who are His great servants, furnish us with
magnificent, and often imitable, examples of faith, hope, and love.
Proof of this statement is found in the lives of St. Teresa of the
Child Jesus, St. Gemma Galgani, St. John Bosco, St. Joseph
Cottolengo, Blessed Anthony Mary Claret, St. Catherine Laboure, St.
Louise de Marillac, St. Conrad of Parzham, the humble Capuchin lay
brother in whom are so admirably fulfilled our Savior’s words:
“I confess to Thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because
Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast
revealed them to little ones” (Matt. 11:25).

In this spirit interior souls should consecrate
themselves to the Holy Ghost in order to place themselves more
profoundly under His direction and impulsion, and not allow so many
of His inspirations to pass unperceived.

Good Christians consecrate themselves to the Blessed
Virgin that she may lead them to our Lord, and to the Sacred Heart
that Jesus may lead them to His Father. Particularly during the
Pentecostal season, they should consecrate themselves to the Holy
Ghost in order better to discern and follow His inspirations. With
this intention they should repeat the beautiful prayer:

O Lux
beatissima, Reple cordis intima Tuorum fidelium.

Sine tuo
numine, Nihil est in homine, Nihil est innoxium.

Da virtutis
meritum, Da salutis exitum, Da perenne gaudium. Amen.

Chapter 41: A Form of Perfect Life: the Way of Spiritual Childhood

The way of spiritual childhood taught by St. Teresa
of Lisieux was highly praised on several occasions by Pope Benedict
XV, and by Pope Pius XI who often expressed his confidence in the
providential mission of the saint for the spiritual formation of
souls in our day. The way of childhood which she recommends to us is
explained by the innate qualities of the child, which should be found
in an eminent degree in the child of God. There is in this idea a
deep intuition in perfect harmony with what theology teaches on
sanctifying grace, the infused virtues, and the gifts of the Holy
Ghost. By recalling the innate qualities of the child, the principal
virtues of the child of God, and what distinguishes spiritual
childhood from natural childhood, we shall find great light on the
doctrine of grace.

THE INNATE QUALITIES OF
THE CHILD

What are ordinarily the innate qualities of a child?
In spite of his little defects, we find in a child, as a rule,
simplicity and conciousness of his weakness, especially if he has
been baptized and is being raised in a Christian manner.

The simplicity, or the absence of duplicity, of a
child is wholly spontaneous; in him there is no labored refinement,
no affectation. He generally says what he thinks and expresses what
he desires without subterfuge, without fear of what people will say.
As a rule he does not pose; he shows himself as he is. Conscious of
his weakness, for he can do nothing of himself, he depends in
everything on his father and mother, from whom he should receive
everything. This awareness of his weakness is the seed of humility,
which leads him to practice the three theological virtues, often in a
profoundly simnple manner.

At first the child spontaneously believes what his
parents tell him; often they speak to him of God and teach him to
pray. Innately the child has confidence in his parents, who teach him
to hope in God even before he knows the formula of the act of hope,
which he will soon read in his catechism and recite morning and
evening. Finally with all his heart the child loves his parents, to
whom he owe everything; and if his father and mother are truly
Christian, they lift the lively affection of this young heart toward
God, our Lord, and His holy Mother. In this simplicity, this
consciousness of his weakness, and this simple practice of the three
theological virtues, there is the seed of the loftiest spiritual
life. For this reason, when Jesus wished to teach His apostles the
importance of humility, setting a little child in the midst of them
He said: “Amen I say to you, unless you be converted, and
become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of
heaven.”1082
In recent years we have seen realized the prediction of Pope Pius X:
“There will be saints among the children,” called at an
early age to frequent Communion.

Later on, during the awkward age, the child often
loses his simplicity, the consciousness of his weakness, and wishes
to act prematurely like a man; he gives evidence of pride and
duplicity. And if he delights in speaking of certain virtues, it is
less of the theological virtues than of human virtues, like fortitude
and courage, which lend importance to his budding personality, and a
certain prudence which he does not know how to distinguish from false
prudence, and which, in his attempt to hide disorders in his life,
may turn into deceit.

The harsh experience of life then reminds him of his
weakness; at times he meets with injustice, which shows him the value
of a higher justice. He suffers from lies that are believed, thus
discovering the value of uprightness. Finally, if he reflects, if he
has not ceased to pray a little every day, he understands Christ’s
words: “Without Me you can do nothing,” and the profound
meaning of the Our Father again becomes apparent to him. He repeats
this prayer of his childhood, sometimes spending ten minutes saying
the Our Father once from the depths of his heart. He has again found
the road of salvation.

THE PRINCIPAL VIRTUES OF
THE CHILD OF GOD

St. Teresa of the Child Jesus reminds us that the
principal virtues of the child of God are those in which are
reproduced in an eminent degree the innate qualities of the child,
minus his defects. Consequently the way of spiritual childhood will
teach us to be supernaturally ourselves minus our defects.

The child of God should, first of all, be simple and
upright, without duplicity; he should exclude hypocrisy and falsehood
from his life, and not seek to pass for what he is not, as our Lord
declares in the Sermon on the Mount: “If thy eye be single, thy
whole body shall be lightsome”:1083
that is, if the gaze of your spirit is honest, if your intention is
upright, your whole life will be illumined.

The child of God should preserve the consciousness of
his weakness and indigence; he should constantly recall that God our
Father freely created him from nothing, and that without God’s
grace he can do absolutely nothing in the order of sanctification and
salvation. If the child of God grows in this humility, he will have
an ever deeper faith in the divine word, greater even than little
children have in the words of their parents. He will have a faith
devoid of human respect, he will be proud of his faith; and from time
to time it will become in him penetrating and sweet, above all
reasoning. He will truly live by the mysteries of salvation and will
taste them; he will contemplate them with admiration, as a little
child looks into the eyes of his beloved father.

If the child of God does not go astray, he will see
his hope grow stronger from day to day and become transformed into
trusting abandonment to Providence. In proportion to his fidelity to
the duty of the moment, to the signified divine will, will be his
abandonment to the divine good pleasure as yet unknown. The arms of
the Lord are, says St. Teresa Of the Child Jesus, like a divine
elevator that lifts man up to God.

Finally, the child of God grows steadily in the love
of his Father. He loves Him for Himself and not simply for His
benefits, as a little child loves his mother more than the caresses
he receives from her. The child of God loves his Father in trial as
in joy; when life is difficult, he remembers that he should love the
Lord with all his strength and even with all his mind, and be always
united to Him in the higher part of his soul as an adorer “in
spirit and in truth.”

This last characteristic shows that the way of
spiritual childhood often demands courage in trial, the virtue of
Christian fortitude united to the gift of fortitude. This is
especially evident toward the end of the life of St. Teresa of the
Child Jesus1084
when she had to pass through the tunnel, which St. John of the Cross
calls the night of the spirit. She passed through this profound
darkness with admirable faith, praying for unbelievers, with perfect
abandonment and most pure and ardent charity, which led her to the
transforming union, the immediate prelude of eternal life.

The way of childhood thus understood wonderfully
harmonizes several seemingly contradictory virtues: meekness and
fortitude, and also simplicity and prudence, to which Jesus referred
when He said to His apostles: “Behold I send you as sheep in
the midst of wolves. Be ye therefore wise as serpents and simple as
doves.”

We must be prudent with the world, which is often
perverse; we must also be strong, at times even to martyrdom, as in
Spain and Mexico in recent years. But to have this superior prudence
and fortitude, we need the gifts of counsel and fortitude, and to
have them we must be increasingly simple and childlike toward God,
our Lord, and the Blessed Virgin. The less we should be children in
our dealings with men, the more we should become children of God.
From Him alone can come the fortitude and prudence we need in the
struggles of today: we must hope in God and divine grace more than in
the strength of popular movements; and should this force stray
farther and farther into the way of atheistic communism, we should
continue to resist even to martyrdom, placing our trust in God like a
little child in the goodness of his father. Father H. Petitot, O.P.,
in his book, St. Teresa of Lisieux: a Spiritual Renascence,
emphasizes this intimate union of virtues so contrary in appearance
in St. Teresa of Lisieux.

Another point of capital importance is that when well
understood the way of spiritual childhood wonderfully harmonizes also
true humility with the desire for the loving contemplation of the
mysteries of salvation. Thereby we see that this contemplation, which
proceeds from living faith illumined by the gifts of understanding
and wisdom, is in the normal way of sanctity. This penetrating and at
times sweet contemplation of the mysteries of faith is not something
extraordinary like visions, revelations, and the stigmata, extrinsic
favors, so to speak, which we do not find in the life of St. Teresa
of Lisieux; it is, on the contrary, the normal fruit of sanctifying
grace, called the grace of the virtues and the gifts and the seed of
glory. It is the normal prelude of eternal life. This point of
doctrine stands out clearly in the writings of St. Teresa of the
Child Jesus. She makes us desire and ask the Lord for this loving
contemplation of the mysteries of the Incarnation, the redemption,
the Eucharist, the Mass, and the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity in
our souls.

WHAT DISTINGUISHES
SPIRITUAL CHILDHOOD FROM NATURAL CHILDHOOD

Lastly, in her teaching on the way of spiritual
childhood, St. Teresa sets forth clearly what constitutes the
distinction between spiritual and natural childhood. Differentiating
between them, St. Paul tells us: “Do not become children in
sense. But in malice be children; and in sense be perfect.”1085
Consequently maturity of judgment first of all distinguishes
spiritual from natural childhood. But there is also a character to
which St. Francis de Sales1086
draws attention. In the natural order, in proportion as the child
grows, the more self-sufficient he should become, for some day he
will no longer have his parents. In the order of grace, on the
contrary, the more the child of God grows, the more he understands
that he will never be self-sufficient and that he depends intimately
on God. As he matures, he should live more by the special inspiration
of the Holy Ghost, who, by His seven gifts, supplies for the
imperfections of his virtues to such an extent that he is finally
more passive under the divine action than given up to his personal
activity. In the end he will enter into the bosom of the Father where
he will find his beatitude.

A young person, on reaching maturity, leaves his
parents to begin life for himself. The middle-aged man occasionally
pays a visit to his mother, but he no longer depends on her as he
formerly did; instead, it is he who supports her. On the contrary, as
the child of God grows up, he becomes so increasingly dependent on
his Father that he no longer desires to do anything without Him,
without His inspirations or His counsels. Then his whole life is
bathed in prayer; he has obtained the best part, which will not be
taken away from him. He understands that he must pray always.

This doctrine, at once so simple and so lofty, is set
forth in detail in the following page from St. Teresa of Lisieux:

To remain
little is to recognize one’s nothingness, to expect everything
from God, as a little child expects everything from his father; it is
to be disturbed about nothing, not to earn a fortune.

Even among
poor people, as long as the child is quite small, they give him what
he needs; but as soon as he has grown up, his father no longer wishes
to feed him and says to him: “Work now, you can be
self-supporting.” Well, so as never to hear that, I have not
wished to grow up. since I feel myself incapable of earning my
living, the eternal life of heaven. I have, therefore, always
remained little, having no other occupation than to gather the
flowers of love and sacrifice and to offer them to God for His
pleasure.

To be
little also means not to attribute to oneself the virtues that one
practices, believing oneself capable of something; but it means
recognizing that God places this treasure of virtue in the hand of
His little child that he may make use of it when necessity arises;
and it is always God’s treasure.1087

This is likewise the teaching of St. Augustine, when
he affirms that, in crowning our merits, God crowns His own gifts.
This is also what the Council of Trent says: “So great is God’s
goodness toward us that He wills that His gifts should become merits
in us.”1088
We can offer Him only what we receive from Him; but what we receive
under the form of grace, we offer to Him under the form of merit,
adoration, prayer, reparation, and thanksgiving.

St. Teresa adds: “Finally, to be little is not
to become discouraged by one’s sins, for children often fall,
but they are too little to do themselves much harm.”

In all this spiritual teaching appears the great
doctrine of grace: “Without Me you can do nothing”; “What
hast thou that thou hast not received?” St. Teresa lived this
lofty doctrine, on which the fathers of the Church and theologians
have written so much. She lived it in a very simple and profound
manner, allowing the Holy Ghost to lead her, above human reasoning,
toward the harbor of salvation, to which she, in her turn, leads many
sinners. Happy indeed the theologian who shall have converted as many
souls as our saint! The Anglican preacher, Vernon Johnson, was not
converted by theologians or by exegetes, but by St. Teresa of the
Child Jesus.

St. Gregory the Great expressed his admiration for
this way of childhood when he wrote in a homily, which the breviary
recalls in the common for virgin martyrs: “When we see young
maidens gain the kingdom of heaven by the sword, what do we say, we
who are bearded and weak, we who allow ourselves to be dominated by
wrath, inflated by pride, disturbed by ambition?”

Truly St. Teresa of Lisieux traced for us the simple
road which leads to great heights. In her teaching, as it pleased
Pope Pius XI to point out, the gift of wisdom appears in a lofty
degree for the direction of souls thirsting for the truth and
wishing, above all human conceptions, to live by the word of God.1089

Section II: The Heroic Degree of the Virtues

To apprehend clearly what the unitive way should be
in the full and strong sense of the term, we must treat of the heroic
degree of the virtues in general, and more particularly of each of
the theological virtues that chiefly constitute our life of union
with God. With this intention, we shall also consider devotion to
Jesus crucified and to Mary in the unitive way.

Chapter 42: The Heroic Degree of the Virtues in General

More perfectly to characterize the spiritual age of
the perfect, we shall discuss at this point the heroic degree of the
virtues which the Church requires for the beatification of the
servants of God.1090

Heroic virtue commences even in the illuminative way,
which begins by the passive purification of the senses, in which
there are heroic acts of chastity and patience. With still greater
reason it exists in the passive purification of the spirit, which
introduces the soul into the unitive way. As we have seen, during
this trial the soul must make heroic acts of the theological virtues
in order to resist temptations against faith and hope. But this
heroic degree manifests itself still more when the soul emerges from
this trial into the unitive way of the perfect. We even pointed out
earlier in this work that these two nights of the senses and the
spirit are like two tunnels whose darkness is quite disconcerting.
When we see a soul emerge from the first tunnel and with greater
cause from the second with manifestly heroic virtues, it is a sign
that the soul has successfully traversed these dark passages, that it
did not go astray, or that, if in them it committed some sins, like
the Apostle Peter during our Savior’s passion, divine grace
raised it up again and led it to still greater humility, a greater
mistrust of self, and a firmer hope in God.

We shall discuss first the distinctive marks of
heroic virtue, then the connection of the virtues in relation to
their heroic degree. In the following chapters we shall treat of the
heroic degree of the theological and moral virtues in the perfect.

THE DISTINCTIVE MARKS OF
HEROIC VIRTUE

On this subject St. Thomas says in his Commentary on
St Matthew, apropos of the evangelical beatitudes, which are the most
perfect acts of the infused virtues and of the gifts: “Common
virtue perfects man in a human manner, heroic virtue gives him a
superhuman perfection. When a courageous man fears where he should
fear, it is a virtue; if he did not fear in such circumstances, it
would be temerity. But if he no longer fears anything, because he
relies on the help of God, then it is a superhuman or divine
virtue.”1091

It is these heroic virtues that are spoken of in the
evangelical beatitudes: blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek,
those who weep over their sins, those who hunger and thirst after
justice, the merciful, the clean of heart, the peacemakers, those who
suffer persecution for justice’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom
of heaven. “Blessed are ye when they shall revile you, and
persecute you, and speak all that is evil against you untruly, for My
sake.”

The true Christian notion of heroic virtue is
expressed in these words of our Savior and in the commentary on them
given us by the fathers of the Church, in particular by St.
Augustine.1092
St. Thomas explains this traditional idea in the Summa,1093
where he distinguishes between the social virtues, the perfecting
virtues, and those of the purified soul; and also where he treats of
the beatitudes. After treating of the acquired virtues of the good
citizen (social virtues), St. Thomas describes the infused perfecting
virtues as follows: “These virtues . . . are virtues of men who
are on their way and tending toward the divine similitude; and these
are called perfecting virtues. Thus prudence by contemplating the
things of God, counts as nothing all things of the world, and directs
all the thoughts of the soul to God alone; temperance, so far as
nature allows, neglects the needs of the body; fortitude prevents the
soul from being afraid of neglecting the body and rising to heavenly
things; and justice consists in the soul giving a whole-hearted
consent to follow the way thus proposed.”

In a higher degree, these same infused virtues are
called virtues of the fully purified soul; they are those of great
saints on earth and of the blessed in heaven. “Thus prudence
sees naught else but the things of God (the rules of our conduct);
temperance knows no earthly desires (after having often overcome
them); fortitude has no knowledge of passion (as in the martyrs); and
justice, by imitating the divine Mind, is united thereto by an
everlasting covenant.”1094

Treating of the beatitudes, St. Thomas1095
tells us that, as meritorious acts, they are the highest acts of the
infused virtues and of the gifts, and that their reward is here on
earth the prelude of eternal life (aliqua inchoatio beatitudinis).
He distinguishes those of the flight from sin, which is attached to
wealth, pleasure, earthly power; those of the active life (the thirst
after justice and mercy), and those of the contemplative life (purity
of heart, radiating peace); the highest contains all the preceding in
the midst even of persecution.

This traditional teaching on the distinctive marks of
heroic virtue is summed up by Benedict XIV when he says: “Four
things are required for proven or manifest heroic virtue: (1) the
matter or object should be difficult, above the common strength of
man;(2) the acts should be accomplished promptly, easily;(3) they
should be performed with holy joy;(4) they should be accomplished
quite frequently, when the occasion to do so presents itself.”1096

The heroic degree of virtue is therefore superior to
the common way of acting of even virtuous souls. Heroic virtue is
present when one practices all one’s duties with ease and
spontaneity, even in particularly difficult circumstances.

The different signs pointed out by Benedict XIV
should be clearly understood in relation to the subject who practices
heroic virtue. Thus, what is difficult for a te